


Those Who Arrive

by JustRamblinOn



Series: Just A Survivor [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cannon Divergence, Cannon Typical Violence, F/M, Feels, Miscarriage, PTSD, Pregnancy, cussing/adult language, past abuse/trauma, past rape/non con, pregnancy loss, there's good too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-19 13:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 71
Words: 121,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRamblinOn/pseuds/JustRamblinOn
Summary: The prison stands. The Governor's dead. Everything should be perfect.... But is it?Starting around season 4 and continuing through Alexandria, this is a sequel to Blood and Bone and Arrows, and you should really read that first or nothing will make sense. Reading 'My Name on Her Lips' first is optional; that one is Daryl's perspective of some events in 'Blood and Bone and Arrows'.





	1. Dixon Discussion

It was the silence that woke you. 

Real silence was impossible to come by at the prison these days, even up in the guard tower you and Daryl had made your own. Between the people and the walkers constantly on the fence, there was always noise. Outside, in the real world, the silence happened sometimes, but not usually. 

Considering that you'd fallen asleep perched in a deer stand up a tree to avoid a wandering herd of the moaning dead, silence was suspicious. 

You stretched and yawned, glancing down and around at the woods surrounding you. It was just a peaceful, empty forest. None of the walkers in sight. 

You unclipped from the stand, slinging your pack from your feet up to your back and dropping down from the tree. You left the stand where it was- you and the Dixon brothers had seeded the area around the prison with deer stands, dead drops with supplies, and other useful things- and moved on into the woods. It'd been a few weeks since you'd been out on your own, and you were loving the freedom, the lack of conversation, the space. You loved the prison, how it had become a community of survivors, thriving and sustaining itself. Rick's crops and pigs, the Dixon hunting parties, Carol's attempts at learning salt curing, the rain barrels and water filtration systems- all of these were good things, needed things that were making some semblance of society re-emerge in the nine months since Woodbury. Your visions of sustainability were coming true, and you were delighted. Really, you were. 

But there were so many people. New faces every day, it seemed, and you barely had time to learn one name before there were four more. 

And they all seemed to know you, somehow. Or Daryl. 

He hated it as much as you did, and both of you spent as much time away from the prison as you could, either together or solo or with Merle. Supply runs, hunting parties, herd removal- the three of you had started taking any excuse to get out of the prison's walls, feel the wind in your faces on your motorcycles or see how silently you could move through the fallen leaves. Away from all those people, the three of you felt most free. Unfortunately, you always seemed to end up finding more people to bring back.

Merle hated all the people as well, even as he embraced the responsibility of leadership, and had moved himself out of the cell block and into one of the guard towers on the outer fence to give himself some separation and to be the first line of defense like you and Daryl. Maggie and Glenn had followed your lead and taken over another, and the five of you would often raise a glass in each other's direction in the evenings or early mornings as you saw each other moving around. You were happy it was thriving, but like the others, you needed some space. 

So here you were, jogging through the woods after a herd of walkers had roamed under your feet all night. You were supposedly hunting, out for fresh meat for the prison and some chickens for Farmer Rick, but really? You were just out to be out. 

Daryl and Merle were gone, on a week long supply run they were three days into. Rick was busy with his crops and his pigs, and he wanted those chickens, damn it. Glenn and Hershel had practically ordered you out when you'd snarled at them while investigating a knocked over rain barrel. 

Ok, fine, it had been an overreaction. The woman hadn't meant to knock it over. You knew that, but you couldn't help it. 

You'd been heavily involved with the Council the past few weeks, trying to restructure the prison bunk system to accommodate the rash of marriages over the last couple of months (Merle had been busy providing his services as officiant, which might be part of why he had been so ready to get out on the road) and the feuds that inevitably began when you crammed so many people into tight quarters. Plus, there'd been the chaos when one of the pumps broke, leaving D block without showers; a panicked search for a kid who had wandered into the lower levels to explore and the parents didn't notice for five frickin' hours; Carl had come up to the tower a few days ago to bitch at you about Rick and then Rick had come over to bitch at you about Carl; Tyreese and Sasha currently weren't speaking because of something only siblings could fight about and Karen thought it was your business somehow; and rats had gotten into one of Carol's salt curing barrels and there had been spoiled meat all over the damn place. 

And with Daryl hovering over you- you and Merle had pretty much had to threaten him to get him to leave. 

You knew why he hadn't wanted to go. You understood. You just knew if he didn't leave you alone for one damn minute to breathe, you were going to drown him yourself. 

In one of the damn rain barrels. 

You weren't helpless. You weren't even mildly incapacitated. You were fine, aside from grumpiness from all the problems and a distinct lack of therapeutic walker killing. The fence crews were running like clockwork and the Council had needed you handling all the people, so you'd actually gone about a week without being covered in walker guts. 

You didn't feel sick or anything. 

Hell, you didn't even know for sure. You were just... late. 

It was probably nothing. It was the end of the world, after all, and you'd had some things happen since the dead started rising. Hell, the first few months after the Governor had taken you prisoner, you hadn't had a period at all, and you hadn't even worried about it. But over the last six months you'd been pretty regular.

Getting a regularly scheduled supply run for lady products was one of your finer Council rulings. The men had freaked out, except Glenn, who'd been the one handling that for the ladies of your group anyway. 

But you were two weeks late now. 

Daryl was losing his damn mind. 

You'd been doing the same, if you were honest. You loved the man, loved being with him and everything about being his wife. But you were not ready to be a mom. You were not ready for a baby. 

This was the fucking zombie apocalypse, man. You didn't want to bring a baby into it. 

Not even a Dixon baby. 

 

Ok, fine. If you were being honest, you'd been more than a little bitchy the day before, about the rain barrel. 

It was just that you didn't know. You were stressed and nervous and you really, really didn't want a kid. It just didn't fit with your lifestyle. 

You would not be caged behind those prison walls while other people handled the safety and sustainability of your community just because you'd procreated. 

Besides, you had Carl and Judith. You and Michonne were basically Carl's moms, and you were cool with it. Grimes and the little Grimes were great. But Judith was a baby, and babies were hard. And at high risk, considering everything. 

Everyone in the prison pitched in with the kids, from Judith all the way up to Carl. There were quite a few of them, all things considered, and you enjoyed that they were there. You knew that you needed more children if society was going to thrive again. 

You just didn't want to have to handle that like you seemed to handle everything else. 

When you and the Dixons weren't there, the Council ran pretty smoothly without you. Shit got taken care of, at least. But for some reason, as soon as you set foot inside the prison, every person with every problem came looking for you, or Daryl, or Merle. 

And Daryl and Merle tended to bring things to you. 

It was all just too much. You'd been supposed to go out with your boys for this trip, but when you told Daryl you were late and what you suspected, he wanted you to stay put. You'd been in the process of convincing him when housing blew up and- well, you hadn't stood a chance. 

Goddamn it, you couldn't even take a damn pregnancy test and settle it one way or another, because the last lady parts supply run hadn't found any. 

That rash of marriages might be resulting in a rash of babies, too. 

So here you were, in a foul mood, possibly pregnant, shirking your responsibilities and putting yourself at risk for no real reason except you wanted to. 

Daryl was gonna be pissed when he got back. 

You honestly didn't care. 

Oh, son of a bitch!

You were trekking lightly through the woods, headed for a dirt road to a small farmhouse and barn you'd found but not scavenged a few weeks before. You came out of the trees onto the dirt path more suddenly than you'd anticipated (probably because you were so busy bitching mentally), and smack into a group of about twenty shambling walkers. 

They all turned to you instantly and started moving. This was not how you had wanted a fight. 

You swung your bow around even as you started moving sideways along the track, trying to get out of the middle of the group- because of course that's where you'd emerged, damn it- and drew and fired. The closest walker dropped with an arrow in its eye, but you had to duck under the arms of one that snuck up a little too close behind you. 

You whipped your machete out of your belt even as you moved, and slammed it into the walker's skull, between the eyes. You didn't even try to pull the machete out right then, knowing it was useless- you always got yours too embedded when you went for the skull- instead, you kept tracking backward trying to edge out of the swarm of them before they all converged on you. 

You almost made it, too. Goddamn stick on the ground behind you rolled as you put your foot on it wrong, and you went down to one knee. 

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered as the first of the walkers just threw itself at you, falling face first toward you with its arms outstretched and jaw snapping. 

You fumbled at your knife but it got hung up on the sheath strap. You shot your hand out, still gripping your bow, and caught the walker by the throat, sliding its neck into one of the dips in the bow's body and holding it pinned at arm's length. 

The other walkers were closing in, and you tried again to get your knife out or get to your feet or something, but holy shit, holy shit, they were coming in fast and you were pretty sure you were-

"Well hell, little sister, what kinda game you playin'? Get ya ass up, girlie!" Merle's voice came out of nowhere, accompanied by a crossbow bolt sinking into the temple of the walker you held at arm's length. 

You tossed the walker aside, scrambling to your feet as the Dixon brothers exploded from the woods and into action. You finally got your knife out and flung yourself into the fight alongside them. 

"What the hell, Dixon?" you called to Daryl as you ducked under one set of swinging arms and thrust your knife up under its rotting chin. "What are you doin' here? Thought you guys were going out further than this. You got four more days." 

He shot you an irritated look from under hair that was getting downright shaggy. 

You needed to force that man to get a haircut when you got back. 

He shoved an arrow through the eye of another of the walkers while Merle moved like a whirlwind, knife in one hand and sword appendage strapped to his metal stump. Merle was grinning like a maniac, but Daryl just looked pissed. 

"It was a bust. We came back. The damn hell are you doin' out here, woman?" he snarled at you. 

You shrugged, jerking another walker closer to you to drive your knife through the base of its skull and shoving it into the crowd, knocking another one back off its feet. "Got bored. Glenn kicked me out. Was headin' to that farmhouse. I had it covered." 

"The hell you did!" he snapped, punching straight through the skull of a walker who got too close to his side. 

Damn, that was impressive.

You scowled at him even as you kicked back another walker. "I was fine! I've handled more than this on my own a bunch of times!" 

"Ya were on the ground, woman! Damn it!" he snarled back, hacking away at a walker. 

Then Merle swung his arm out and speared the one you'd kicked casually with his sword-hand, and they were down. Merle was grinning at you, tipping his machete in a cheerful salute and you grinned back before turning to Daryl. 

Your husband was scowling at you, one hand gripping the strap of his crossbow tightly and the other still clenched around his knife. You sighed, wiping the walker blood off your knife onto your pants and sheathing it. You swung your bow around to your back and walked over to Daryl. 

You went to your toes and kissed his cheek, then moved past him to plant one foot on the walker's skull and yank your machete free with a squelch. 

"I tripped. Big deal. It happens all the time," you said conversationally, wandering back to him as you wiped off the machete on your leg as well. Spearing it back into your belt, you grabbed the arrow you'd used and yanked Daryl's free as well. 

He took it from you wordlessly, eyes searching you for bites or scratches. You sighed. 

"Dixon. I am fine," you growled. 

"I'd leave it be, little brother," Merle put in, and Daryl shot him the finger. Merle just laughed. "You know that girl can hold her own. Stop your fussin' and let's do our jobs. We've come up empty so far. Might as well see what we can see down this road." 

You nodded, not taking your eyes off Daryl. "He's right." 

"Yeah, he is," Daryl agreed. "So go home. He and I'll handle it." 

Aw, hell no. You stepped right up into his space, standing toe to toe with him. 

"Back the fuck off, Daryl. You don't get to treat me like some damn pampered princess. I make my own choices," you snarled at him, and he snarled right back. 

"You're pregnant! You ain't supposed to be out here like this, middle of a herd of fuckin' walkers! What do you think you're doin'?" 

"Goddamn it!" you screamed, just screamed it at his face. You were so sick of being coddled already. You couldn't even imagine doing this for nine months. "Don't you get it? I won't be left behind just because I might be pregnant! I'm a fucking fighter, not a politician! I'm the one who does the protecting, not the one you need to protect!" 

"Alright now, boys and girls," Merle drawled, easing up to where the two of you were toe to toe. "Not that this little domestic dispute ain't entertainin', but maybe we should keep the voices to a minimum. This ain't the time for a Dixon discussion." 

You snorted, trying to hold back the laughter, but you couldn't. "Dixon discussion" was a term you'd started, and soon everyone in your group had started using it. At first it had just been about Merle and Daryl's loud, explosive, often physical arguments, but when you'd joined the Dixon team three months ago, Carl had started applying it to when you and Daryl disagreed as well. 

The first time the two of you had gotten into one of your shouting matches after the wedding, you'd been on the walkway outside your tower room. The two of you had been toe to toe, screaming at each other about something- you didn't even know what. After a while, Daryl had just snarled at you and shoved you against the wall, and you'd been wrapped around him in an extremely inappropriate way when Merle had yelled up at the two of you that there were children present. You'd both turned red and disappeared into the tower, but not before you'd caught a glimpse of the crowd dispersing from its foot. 

These days, you'd heard that people placed bets on whether your Dixon discussions would end in one of you storming off to kill something or in angry sex, but you were pretty sure 'people' just meant Merle and Carol. 

Sickos.

But 'Dixon discussion' never failed to make you laugh. 

After a minute, the murderous look faded from Daryl's eyes and he started to laugh with you, tilting his head to rest on your shoulder as he chuckled. You ran your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his neck, and that was it. 

Argument over, but not forgotten.


	2. Meet Bessie

The three of you had cleaned out the farmhouse and you were heading back to the prison with your prizes, but the return trip was more difficult than you were expecting. 

"Is this bitch really worth all this damn effort?" Merle snarled, blood dripping from the fresh cut over his eyebrow. 

"Cheese, Merle! Cheese!" you practically sang, grabbing his arm and bouncing on your toes. 

The goat bleated angrily and jerked its head again, catching Daryl in the shoulder. 

"Watch it, ya little bastard," Daryl snarled. "Move over some, Merle." 

"And how the hell is it my fault? Your damn woman's over here all up against me. Rilin' the bitch up," Merle muttered back, hitching the goat- legs bound together front and back and slung around his shoulders-up a bit into place. 

You felt a little bad that between him and Daryl, they were doing all the hard work, but really, you'd said you could carry the supply bag or the goat. How was it your fault they'd come over all protective and decided you shouldn't do any lifting? 

You broke off from the other two for a moment to deal with the lone walker attracted by the goat's bleating and the boys' bitching, then made your way back to their sides. 

"Come on, boys, we're almost there. Should hit the clearing any minute now, and I'm sure Farmer Rick will come runnin' when he sees this little beauty," you crooned to the goat, who rewarded you with an angry flip of its ears and a bleat. 

"Damn thing ain't no beauty, it's a fuckin' bitch," Merle muttered, and you grinned at him. 

"Cheese, Merle! Milk and cheese!" 

"Don't give a shit about no damn cheese, woman," Daryl put in from your other side as you came out of the woods and saw the prison. 

You stuck two fingers in your mouth and let out a trilling whistle. You saw the lookout's gun dip twice in the air, and the outer gates- some complicated construction Rick and Michonne had copied from Rick's crazy friend Morgan- started to groan open. The three of you broke into a jog as you cast a worried glance over the rather large crowd of walkers gathered along the fence. 

What the hell? When you'd left yesterday, there had barely been any around the fence. Maybe the herd that had passed under you during the night had all found their way here, but the fence crews should have handled it. You had spent considerable time and effort perfecting the rotation and execution of fence-clearing, and you were kinda pissed to see that they hadn't handled it in your absence. Those walkers should be burning two miles out by now.

Then the three of you were through the outer gates and Carl was sliding open the main gate. 

"Hey Grimes!" you called. "Look who I found!" 

"Hey, Dixons!" he said with a grin that matched yours. "You guys are back early." 

"I wasn't talkin' about them!" you teased as you slung your bow against your back and wrapped an arm around Carl's shoulders. 

Kid had shot up like a weed and wasn't much shorter than you were now. When had that happened? 

"Just look at this beautiful girl I found!" you continued, gesturing to the goat who simultaneously was trying to kick its way off Merle's shoulders and nibble on Daryl's hair. Daryl swatted at it with a scowl. 

Carl laughed. "I can't believe you found one! Hey, Dad!" He raised his voice and waved to where Rick had leaned his shovel against the pig pen and started toward you. 

"What's up, Farmer Brown?" you said, stepping to Rick's side and kissing his cheek with a smile. He rolled his eyes at you. 

"Never thought I'd miss bein' called Cowboy," he said dryly and you just grinned. 

"You put the moves on my woman while I was gone, Rick?" Daryl said dryly from where he crouched by the goat Merle had lowered to the ground, unbinding its legs. 

You laughed. "I brought you a goat, Rick! Make me some cheese!" 

Rick crouched next to Daryl and checked the goat over. 

"You brought it?" Merle muttered, winking at Carl when you looked up and saw them grin at each other. 

"Hey, you heathen, you would have passed right over that barn and not gone in! I did the hard work, finding her and roping her up!" 

"Yeah, and took a damn hoof to the stomach to do it," Daryl said with a scowl in your direction. 

"Shut up, Dixon; I'm fine," you snapped back, shooting him a warning glance. You weren't telling anyone but him and Merle about your suspicions, because you kept hoping you were wrong. 

"Better have Hershel or Dr. S take a quick look anyway," Rick said with a glance between the two of you. 

You rolled your eyes at him. "I'm fine, both of you. Quit fussing. Where do you want this beauty, Rick?" 

"Well.... I'll have to build a pen for her. Didn't think you'd find me a goat. I sent you out for chickens," he said with a quick smile. "But Carl and I can get something set up pretty fast. Until then, we can tie her up over there, near the pigpen." 

"I'll help," Merle grunted. Rick nodded at him. 

"You just don't wanna have to come inside and see anybody," you accused. 

"I'll help too," Daryl put in swiftly, and you laughed. 

"Well then, boys, guess I'll just be hauling these supplies in all by myself, and I'll get to tell everyone all about how I found and brought back Bessie here!" You swung the supply pack up onto your back with a grunt. 

Damn, that really was heavy. You'd gotten really lucky with that little farm: canned food, some basic medical supplies, some blankets and things, and even a couple boxes of ammo and a handgun. You'd actually left more there, like farm tools and things for Rick that it just hadn't made sense to try to carry with everything else. You needed to get up to the prison, hand off your things to Carol to add to the inventory, check in with the council, figure out why there was no one handling the buildup on the fences right now, and then get a couple people to run back out to the farm and finish cleaning it out. 

A hand dropped onto the bag and stopped you. "I'll take that," Daryl muttered, taking the pack from your back even as you scowled at him. "Come on, I can see you makin' a list of things to do. Don't argue." 

You waved to the other three, who were already debating the best place to build the goat pen, and headed up the path. 

"Damn it, Dixon, don't start again," you muttered under your breath at him as the two of you met people moving around and going about their business. 

It was laundry day, so there was a huge crowd of people- mostly women, you noted; ah sexism- gathered around the three different moveable washing stations Carol had organized, and sheets and towels and clothing billowed in the breeze from the yards and yards of clotheslines rigged up in the open fields. People called your names or yelled 'hey, Dixons!' and you waved and nodded and smiled, even at faces you didn't recognize even a little. 

"Don't make me start again, woman," he muttered back. He shifted the pack on his back and reached out for your hand, holding it tightly as you walked. 

You squeezed back and felt yourself soften a little. "I know you're worried, Daryl," you said quietly. "I know you want this, and you want me or us to be safe. But don't put me in a cage to do that. I can't stand it." 

He was looking at the ground while you walked, ignoring the calls from others now. "I do want it. I want you to be happy more. I know I'm overreactin'," he admitted quietly. "I just- I hate not knowin' for sure. Wish we had found a damn test while we were gone. How can they be out already?" 

You snorted. "We've had a lot of weddings here lately, Dixon. Means we got a lot of people doing the tango, and it's not like our teams provide protection to everyone." 

Daryl barked out a harsh laugh. "Fair enough, woman. Still." 

"Yeah," you said with a sigh. "Still." 

 

Then you were through the inner gate, stopping off at your tower long enough to drop your survival pack at the foot of the stairs where it stayed when you were at home. You and Daryl split up then, him taking the fresh stuff to Carol and you heading to find Sasha or Glenn, who were in charge of the fence crews when you weren't around. 

"Maggie!" you called when you saw her talking to a group of people whose faces were completely unfamiliar to you. Two men, a woman, and a teenage boy, all tired and dirty and hungry looking. 

Who had brought them in? 

Maggie waved you over and you strolled up to the tail end of a speech you'd heard a thousand times before. ".... we'll get you an assigned bunk and figure out where your talents lie. We don't force anyone to do anything here; we're an all-volunteer organization, but so far we haven't met anyone who doesn't want to contribute. Carol's in charge of housekeeping and does story time for the kids as well, but any one of the Council can help you with any questions. Most residents here know who the Council members are, so just ask anyone and they'll point you in the right direction." 

She smiled as you walked up and looked the new people over. "YN! Everyone, this is YN Dixon. She's one of our Council members. She can help you with anything you need as well." 

"Dixon?" the teenager asked, looking you over. "Like Merle?" 

You gave him your polite smile. "He's my brother-in-law, yes. I'm Daryl's wife." 

The kid nodded and glanced away from you awkwardly. 

"Merle found us in the road last night; saved us from a herd. He got us set up in a little cabin and gave us directions to this place," one of the men said, smiling at you. "He's a nice man. Daryl has the crossbow, right?" 

You smiled back. "Yes, he is; and yes, Daryl does. Did they ask you our questions?" 

The woman nodded. "Yes. How many walkers have we killed, how many people have we killed, and why," she said softly. 

You nodded. "We ask everyone who's looking to join us those same questions. So far, no one has ever given an answer we found too concerning," you assured them, and the woman smiled at you.

You turned to Maggie. "Mags, I need to talk to Sasha or Glenn. It's about the fences. Why don't we have a crew out there?" 

Maggie glanced at the new people and grabbed your arm. "Excuse us," she said politely, and stepped off to the side. 

She dropped her voice as well. "They're down in the lower levels with a team. We had a small breech; nothing major but it was more urgent than the fences. We don't want anyone panicking, though, so they just took one of the usual fence crews." 

"Damn it," you muttered. Lower-level breeches weren't common, but they weren't unheard of, either- which was part of the panic over the kid who disappeared for so long earlier in the week. "Thanks. New guys alright?" you added with a nod at the small knot of people. 

She shrugged. "I guess. Not talkative, really." 

"How'd they answer the questions?"

"Didn't know how many walkers. Three people, and because they tried to steal their food one night," Maggie said softly. You nodded. 

"Thanks, Mags. See you tonight? We got a dinner date, right?" you asked, and wiggled your eyebrows at her. She, Michonne, Carol, Beth, and you had been getting together pretty regularly up in Maggie and Glenn's tower to dish and bitch and sometimes drink if someone had brought in some booze. It was a regular girl's night, and you couldn't believe how much you enjoyed it. 

The fact that it was almost always interrupted by walkers or some other threat only made it even more interesting. 

Maggie grinned. "Yeah, girl! I've got some stuff to talk to yall about tonight!" 

You laughed. "Can't wait. Get back to the new guys before they panic. See ya," you turned with a wave in the new people's direction and went jogging toward cell block C.


	3. Something Isn't Right, Because of Course

Your little family still called Cell C home sweet home. Rick, Carl and Judith, Beth, Hershel, Michonne, and Carol all had their own cells inside, and they kept cells at the ready for you and Daryl, Glenn and Maggie, and Merle if you needed them. It was your group's command center, family home, and the last line of defense all in one. Through C block, your group could access the lower levels of the prison and the escape route you had made there. 

No one else knew about the escape plan outside of your crew, not even Tyreese or Sasha, who had become close members of your family as well. The two of them kept rooms in the Woodbury block, D Block. They were members of your family and Sasha was on the council, but they were still just a little outside. This escape hatch was a last ditch path, dark and dangerous and not to be used unless every other pathway out of the prison had fallen. 

The Governor might have been dead, but you were still paranoid. Carl assured you that he had taken out the Governor's walker himself, with a knife to the eye, and then burned the body, but it didn't matter where your safety was concerned. You'd had a group of the living take out your first group of survivors, and what the Governor had done to you had damn near killed you and your little family. You were going to be prepared, damn it. 

Breeches in the lower levels had happened a few times over the months, like breeches in the fences. The Council was prepared for it, having rigged up some simple alarms, tripwires, etc down below and at every possible breech point. You weren't particularly worried about the breech. You were more worried about the buildup on the fence. Overnight, it shouldn't have been that bad. And if this lower level breech really was no big deal, why wasn't one of the other crews out on the fence?

You were mulling over that question when you started hearing it. Frantic, half-heard voices, low walker moans and groans, and- were you hearing hammers? Good Lord. 

You broke into a run, swinging your bow around into your arms and notching an arrow as you went. You moved soundlessly through the hallways, even at your speed. Daryl and Merle had taught you a few things over the past few months, and if you could sneak up on one of them in the woods in autumn (it had happened exactly once, but you were damn proud of yourself), you could certainly be silent in a stone hallway. 

You didn't need to worry about it, though, because the fence crew- and Glenn- were making more than enough noise to cover you. You came around the corner, slowing only a little to take in the scene as you did. 

You fired instantly, dropping the walker Glenn was struggling with as the other eight members of the fence crew swirled around him in the chaos. He dropped the walker and whirled to you, nodding his thanks before diving back in, using a walker's body like a bowling ball to take out three more. 

You dove into the fray, knife in hand, and took down one seconds before it latched onto one of the others. You didn't recognize the woman, and her eyes were wild as she whipped her head your way. You just gestured her back to pay attention as you headed toward Glenn. 

"YN!" he called as the two of you went back to back. 

"Speed Racer. What the hell?" you asked, finally getting the chance to take in the scene. You were way too close to C block for your comfort, and there was a massive crowd of walkers blocking the hallway. 

Half the people were struggling to hold the tide back, and you and Glenn stayed on the front lines helping with that, while the other half were desperately trying to repair the wooden barricade your group had erected to block off the hallway in the case of an emergency. Walkers should never have gotten this far into the prison; this barricade was a defensive measure against anyone coming in the front door, meant to slow down pursuit while your group hauled ass out of there. 

Now, it was obviously going to need to be reinforced and used to keep the walkers out of the cell blocks. What had happened here while you were gone? 

"Walkers broke through last night. There was a huge herd of them. We were keeping the fences clear when we got the message there was a breech down here. I don't know how long we've been down here, but I've got all three of the other fence crews working in other places as well," Glenn filled you in, his voice exhausted and stressed. 

"Jesus, Glen!" you snapped at him. "Why the hell did Maggie tell me it was no big deal? And why the hell isn't this an all-hands-on-deck situation?" 

"Because we've been too damn busy to sound the alarm!" Glenn snarled back, dropping a walker with an overhand blow and kicking its body back into the hallway. 

"Son of a bitch," you muttered, darting forward to take out another and do the same. There was a nice blockade of dead walkers now, giving you and the others of the crew a bit of a breather. 

"Hey! We're set!" an unfamiliar voice shouted, and the six of you fell back as the other four ran up, setting the wooden barricade in place and securing it to the walls. 

You turned to Glenn. "How bad?" 

He shrugged. "We're screwed if we don't find how they're getting in," he said simply. 

"Son of a bitch!" you said again, more forcefully. You swiped a hand across your forehead, shoving loose strands of hair back and leaving a streak of walker blood on your face. 

Oh well, wasn't the first time and certainly wouldn't be the last. 

"Ok. We've got a fence situation now, too. When we came in, they were starting to pile up pretty badly. We can't keep this a secret; I'm going to have to go up and sound the alarm. Get people down here and on the fences. Goddamn it, this is going to cause chaos. Can you come with me?" you asked Glenn. "Think this will hold? We're gonna need the full council on this one." 

Glenn nodded. "Wish Daryl and Merle were here." 

"Oh, sorry! They're back! Their trip was a bust somehow, and they ran into me. We found Farmer Brown a goat," you added, your mind too busy with your current situation to care what your mouth was doing. Glenn snorted. 

"Alright, I'm heading up," you decided. "Get someone in charge down here, check in with your other groups, and then come to the Council room. I'll get a crew on the fences and then call an emergency meeting." 

Glenn nodded and turned to the other eight, who were taking out walkers through the barricade now as the herd kept trying to surge forward. 

You wiped your knife on your pants- God, you needed a shower and some of those clean clothes from outside- and started back up the hallway at a jog. 

Something weird was going on here.


	4. Why Does Everyone Think You're In Charge?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief mentions of past abuse

You came out of the cell block into the bright sun and ran straight into Daryl. 

"Damn it, woman!" he grunted, catching you by the waist. 

"Perfect," you briskly. "We've got a problem, Dixon. Lower levels are overrun; Glenn's got all four fence crews down there fighting the good fight, but they are way too far in for my comfort. Plus the build up on the fences themselves, and we're in some deep shit if we don't do something quick." 

You were already moving as you spoke, him in step beside you, as you gave him a brief report. "You grab Merle and round up the Council. I'm going to get Tyreese, Karen, and whoever else I can grab on the fences. Maybe Rick and Carl, too. We need everybody we can get," you finished grimly. 

Daryl touched your shoulder and headed off at a jog for Merle in the distance. You rounded the corner briskly, not quite running (you didn't want to panic anyone if you could avoid it), and ducked into D block, the Woodbury block. 

Nearly everyone from Woodbury had decided to stay, and they were all a part of your community now. A few had chosen to leave- like Shumpert and his buddy from the Governor's truck, the one who had leered at you while the Governor yanked you around by the hair- and good riddance to them. A few had stayed for awhile but hadn't been able to settle, like Martinez and a couple of his friends. They had been good people, strong people you would have liked to have at your back, but they just hadn't been able to keep to the prison. They'd felt caged and trapped, and you couldn't even blame them. 

They hadn't forged the family ties you had with your group, and so they'd had nothing to tether them here. 

"Tyreese! Karen!" you called as you came into the block. "Need a word, fast!" 

They came out of their cell as others glanced at you from the common area or poked their heads under curtains to glance at you briefly. A few eyes widened at your blood and gut splattered look- walker slayer chic, you know- but they all knew you. 

"What's going on?" Karen asked, noticing your expression. 

Karen and Tyreese weren't your favorite people in the world, but you liked them both well enough. They had both been there for your breakdown in Woodbury, after you had taken out the Governor, but you didn't hold that against them. Much. 

Tyreese was competent, but there was something about him you didn't respond well to. You couldn't put your finger on what it was, but he worried you. Karen was nice enough, and she was pretty dang strong. You liked her better. 

"We've got a problem at the fences. The usual crews are busy at the moment, so I need you guys to get a group together and get down there before the build up gets to be an issue. We're calling an emergency Council meeting, and we'll fill everyone in as soon as we can. Can you guys handle that?" you asked, already turning back to the door. 

Tyreese nodded, but Karen gave you a studying look. "We got it. Anything else you want to tell us?" she asked suspiciously. 

You shrugged. "Soon enough. Promise. Just get those fences taken care of!" you called as you ducked back out. 

 

Your next stop was Carol's story hour. You slipped in the back, moving through the prison's library- an amazing find that had warmed your heart- quietly, not wanting to disturb the kids any more than you had to. 

Holy shit. 

Carol looked up guiltily, machete in one hand, mid-swing as she talked to the gathered children about proper knife use. What the hell? She was supposed to be reading them the classics and teaching them the basics they would have learned in school. Not teaching them about weapons and fighting techniques. 

"Carol?" you asked, eyebrow raised. It wasn't like you objected, really. Everyone who didn't know how to survive in this world was just a liability someone else had to protect. 

But these were kids. Did their parents know what they were sending them to her for? 

And goddamn it, you did not want this to be your problem now. 

"YN," Carol said calmly. "Please don't tell Rick." 

You snorted. "We've got bigger problems. Emergency meeting," you said, holding her eye to try to convey the urgency. 

She nodded and started talking to the kids as you went back out of the room. 

Carol was training the kids, like Rick had with Carl. You knew Rick had issues with that now- wanting both him and Carl to step back and find their humanity again- but honestly, you didn't give a crap and didn't see how it was Rick's business. Plus, you had bigger fish to fry. 

 

You ran into Maggie next, and she went to get Sasha and Hershel. You headed down to get Rick and Carl. 

"Hey, Grimes boys!" you yelled, seeing them leaning over the pigpen. 

They looked up at you in tandem, and you grinned. You loved these two like no one else in the world. Rick was the brother you'd always wanted, and Carl? Well, you wouldn't be so scared of being pregnant if you knew you'd get a kid like Carl out of the deal. 

"Hey, YN!" Carl called. "Something's up with Violet."

"Did you name the damn pigs?" You asked with a sigh. "C'mmon, kid, that's bacon right there, not a pet. Name the goat if you need to name something." 

He just shrugged. "You named the goat. She's Bessie." 

You flicked the brim of his hat playfully. "Fair enough. Listen, guys- we've got a problem. Rick, I know you're all anti-violence right now, and that's cool. But we got build up on the fence and a shit ton of walkers in the lower levels where they shouldn't be, and we need some help. I could use both of you, either on the fence or down in the prison." You held Rick's eyes, trying to get him to see just how far up shit creek you were. 

He looked back steadily, and the muscle in his jaw twitched. "YN...." 

You sighed. "Cowboy, I wouldn't ask if I weren't worried. I've got to get back for an emergency council meeting, and Glenn's got all four fence crews down there." 

You glanced over as you saw Tyreese and Karen leading three other people who you didn't even recognize to one of the rolling bins of crowbars and pipes you'd stationed at every corner for fence duty. They were all wearing the heavy welder's aprons Daryl and Merle had brought back from an auto shop they'd found a month or so ago, and work gloves, and set to work on the herd of walkers on one fence. 

But they were on all sides. 

"Dad, come on. They'll never get ahead of it on their own," Carl said, sounding angry. You knew this was a frequent argument with them, and you felt bad for getting into it. Carl hated the way his dad had made him back off of the fighting and protection; resented being treated like a kid. Rick just wanted to make sure Carl stayed human, compassionate, and young for as long as possible. He didn't want this life to make Carl cold.

The fact that you agreed with Carl was something you kept to yourself. No way in hell were you going against Cowboy on this. 

But damn it, you were in a hurry and you needed the help. 

"Rick, I gotta go. Just... Just keep an eye on them, I guess," you said finally, dropping a hand on Carl's shoulder as you turned to go. You broke into a jog as you heard Carl start to shout something at Rick, but you couldn't stay around to help that fight. 

 

You hit the doors to C block at a jog, pausing to listen at the now-open gate to the lower levels. You could hear some noises, faintly, from the distance, and you shivered a little. 

It'd been less than a year ago that you were being forced into that darkness by an iron hand on your arm, cheek aching from a recent blow and blood running down it. 

A familiar feeling started in your lungs, but you'd had a lot of practice with it. You focused on breathing, forcing your lungs to expand all the way, then slowly letting out all of the air as you counted beats in your head. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.... 

Another deep breath in and out, and you felt the tightness ease. 

"You ok?" a voice asked you quietly, and you turned with a huge smile. 

"Samauri!" you exclaimed, and she grinned back at you, leaning against one of the tables behind you. "When did you get back? Last I heard, you were heading out toward Macon!" 

She shrugged, something moving over her face for an instant. "Didn't pan out. Found some places to hit for supplies, though. Found a tractor," she added with a faint smile. 

"Oh Farmer Brown would love that," you said with a laugh. 

"He hates that nickname," Michonne commented as she pushed away from the table and the two of you headed into the common area. 

"I know," you said with a wink, and she laughed. 

Michonne hadn't been around a lot since the Governor died. She would ride in, stay for three or four days, a week at most. Then she'd be off again, ranging out further and further. She brought back comics and chocolate bars and food and other things, lighting Carl up whenever she came back. 

But then she'd be gone again. 

She never really seemed to give a straight answer as to why she would go, and nobody else in your little group seemed to know either. You all just accepted it. She'd been a loner badass when she'd joined you, and God knew you understood how hard the habit of being alone was to break. 

You were damn glad she was here right now, though. 

 

The Council was waiting for you, gathered around an exhausted looking Glenn. Maggie wasn't technically a member, but she stood with her hand on Glenn's shoulder and a concerned look in her eyes. Michonne wasn't a Council member either, but none of you were likely to turn her away. 

"There ya are, little sister," Merle drawled, sharpening his sword appendage on the stairs. You glanced around at the others. 

Hershel was walking pretty damn well now with the prosthetic leg you'd found for him on a miraculous run. He leaned against the wall now, hands hooked in his suspenders, and gave you a faint, worried smile. Daryl was pacing, crossbow in his hands, but he met your eyes with a smile of his own, and you smiled back. Sasha was seated beside Glenn, frowning at the table in thought. Carol perched on the stairs next to Merle, and you gave her a long look. She glanced guiltily away for a moment before meeting your eyes. She practically dared you to say anything, and you would have laughed in other circumstances. 

"I got Tyreese and Karen to round up a few others and take on the fence herd. They won't be able to get ahead of it, much less take them all out, on their own, but I also asked Farmer Rick and Grimes to keep an eye out," you reported in, trying not to let your voice show the frustration you felt toward Rick. Daryl caught your eye and raised an eyebrow, so you must not have done all that good a job with it. You just shook your head slightly; now wasn't the time. 

"The barricades are holding, and the crews down there were doing a good job keeping them back. But we need to send more people in to get the walkers cleared," Glenn spoke up. He sounded exhausted, and you took a closer look at him. 

"Glenn, for fuck's sake. How long were you down there? How long has everyone been down there?" you snapped, irritated at how tired he looked. 

He opened his eyes and shrugged. "I don't know. I took one team down last night. They're still down there. I brought the others down as we discovered more problem areas." 

"Son of a bitch!" you snapped, glaring at everyone else. "None of you noticed he was down there all fuckin' night? Why does this place fall apart when I leave?" 

You were being bitchy and you knew it. You just didn't care. 

"Cause if there's not a Dixon behind the gates, everybody looses their minds," Carl's voice came from the doorway, and boy did he sound pissed. 

Merle snorted out a laugh as you turned to shoot Carl a look. 

"Here now, son-" Hershel started, but Carl interrupted him as he strode toward his cell. 

"No, Hershel; I'm not sorry. It's true. Even when my dad was in charge, everyone relied on them. Mostly her. Now that my dad's playing farmer instead of being a leader, she really is in charge. Everyone fuckin' knows it, but no one wants to say it." 

Then he was ducking into his cell as silence descended on the common area. He came back out swiftly, shoving his handgun into his holster and keeping a machete wedged under his arm. 

"I'm going to the fence. Dad's being a dick," he said to you as he passed, and then he was gone. 

"Well then," you huffed. You glanced back over at your friends, warily. 

Daryl and Merle were openly grinning, Carol and Maggie were trying to hide their smiles, Hershel was frowning after Carl, and Glenn had his eyes closed and you thought he might be asleep. Sasha looked pissed, but she'd never been more than passingly friendly to you, so you weren't really surprised that being told by a kid that you were really the one in charge pissed her off. 

Hell, it would have pissed you off to hear something like that. 

Michonne just shrugged when you looked at her. "I've always assumed you were in charge," she teased, and you snorted and shook your head. 

"I ain't in charge," you insisted, and Merle laughed again. 

"You keep tellin' yourself that, little sister. We'll keep playin' along. Now, what's the plan?" he asked, standing up and nodding in the direction of the common area. 

You sighed again. "We need to clear the walkers out from the lower levels. Too many people go down there; including kids, like that girl whose idiot parents didn't realize she was gone for five fuckin' hours," you muttered. 

"In Ryan Samuels' defense; Lizzy is old enough to take care of herself and her sister," Carol put in calmly. "And he's a single father." 

You waved her away. "Whatever. Other people's parenting is so not my problem. Point is, we can't let things stand down there the way they are. We've got to find the breech, too. It seems..." you trailed off, staring at the wall. 

"It's not normal," Glenn said quietly. "There are too many of them. There shouldn't be that many." 

"Yeah," you muttered. 

"You sayin' you think someone let them in?" Daryl growled. You just shrugged, having no idea. 

"Well, what are we waitin' for?" Merle asked. "You guys comin' or what?" 

 

It was decided that the three Dixons would be one team, taking on the walkers from the first barricade. Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne would go from another angle, and Sasha and Carol would hold the closest barricade to the cell block and act as backup. 

You passed out walkie talkies from the group's personal stash, and headed into the darkness. 

Daryl took point, and you and Merle moved to flank him with the ease of practice. Merle could piss you off sometimes- and hell, enjoyed pissing you off more than you liked to think about- but you'd come to love the one-handed bastard. You trusted him with your life and Daryl's, and the three of you formed an unstoppable team. 

At the barricade, exhausted faces greeted you. You filled everyone in on the plan while Daryl and Merle checked out the area, and you left one of the walkies with the crew leader. 

Why the hell didn't you recognize any of these people anymore? God Almighty, there were too many new faces around here. 

And they all seemed to know you and Daryl personally. 

"Who the hell were those guys?" you whispered to Merle as you moved down the hall behind Daryl. 

Merle snorted. "You don't remember them? Hell, you brought three of them in personally." 

Really? "Oh," you said softly. "No way. You're shitting me." 

He snorted again, and Daryl shot you a glare over his shoulder. You lapsed back into silence, following him noiselessly with Merle at your side. 

You made quick work of it as you went, taking down way too many of the dead for your comfort. You met up with Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne, and the six of you headed in deeper.


	5. Fuck the Tomato Plants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PTSD; panic attacks; references to past rape/non con and abuse

Part of the fence was down. A tree had fallen on it, and your people were damn fuckin' lucky the fence had fallen in just the right way against the building to block access to the yard on either side. 

That had just left the walkers to press up against the building itself until they forced open the doors, overwhelming the simple wooden bar your group had placed over the inside to reinforce them. 

Since this was your group's backup escape route, you were pissed as hell that it had happened. Now you not only had to get the fences cleared, this section repaired, all the walker bodies cleared out of the prison and burned, and the prison's inner defenses reinforced in case something like this ever happened again, you also needed to map out a new escape route. 

Son of a bitch, you were tired. 

Like, really, really exhausted. 

You were leaning against the wall, eyes heavy, thinking while everyone discussed the situation and checked out the fences. Your opinion of how to repair the fence wasn't needed because you in no way had the expertise for that; so you were just tuning everyone out and keeping an eye on the woods for any approaching walkers while they argued. You were busy trying to work out the new secret backup escape plan while you watched and tried to stay awake. 

Hell, Glenn looked in better shape than you were, and he'd been up fighting all night. What was that about?

"Fuckin' hell!" Merle exclaimed, crouching by the broken fence. He had his sword appendage stabbed into the ground and was leaning on it like a cane while he bent over and studied something on the ground under the bent fence. 

You shoved off the wall and headed toward him as the other conversations around you stopped. 

"What is it?" You asked wearily as you came to his side. He looked up at you and his eyes were cold. 

"Rats," he said, gesturing toward the ground. 

You frowned and leaned in for a closer look. "So? It's a prison. Carol had rats in one of the salt barrels a few days ago. They happen." 

"Not like this," Merle answered grimly. Daryl and the others were gathered around you now, leaning over to look as well, when you got it. 

"Son of a bitch," you whispered. "Someone's been feeding them." 

The bodies of six or so rats lay strung along under the broken fence, on the prison side. They were missing chunks of flesh in clear bite marks from walkers. You looked up into Daryl's eyes, and he looked just as shocked and angry as you felt. 

"This was deliberate. Someone's sabotaging us," Daryl snarled. "What the hell, guys?" 

 

Your group sealed off the doors and headed back through the prison to collect the others. You sent the fence crews- and Glenn- to bed with strict orders to get some damn rest, and then the rest of you had an emergency meeting. 

"We need to get some more people down on the fences," you started things off, leaning against the wall. Your eyes were so heavy. 

"I'll go. Merle, come on," Daryl put in, straightening up and running a hand over your hair. "YN can speak for us. She knows how we think. I ain't no good with lookin' for traitors, either," he added angrily. 

Merle snorted in agreement. "Get somebody on gettin' those fences put back together, too," was all he said, and he took off for the door. 

Michonne and Maggie were filling Hershel, Carol, and Sasha in on what you'd found, and you grabbed Daryl's hand as he started to follow his brother. 

"Dixon," you said quietly, and he just pulled you in. You leaned into his shoulder, letting your eyes close for a moment and breathing him in. 

"I love ya, woman," he whispered into your ear, and you felt yourself smile. 

"I love you too, Dixon," you whispered back. "Talk later?" You asked, pushing back to look into his eyes. He nodded once, tightened his arm around you for a minute, and then let go. 

You sagged against the wall again with a sigh. 

"Ok, people. What the hell is goin' on?" You asked. 

Troubled eyes met yours as you looked from one person to the other. These were your friends, your family, the people you relied on most, and they looked just as worried as you felt. 

You were scared. Deliberate sabotage from inside your community, if it got out, would cause more panic than the walker breech itself. Neighbor would turn on neighbor, and you'd have a witch hunt on your hands before you could say walker bait. 

You talked for a long time about what to tell people, what to do, and how to solve the many problems. In nine months, the Council had never had a problem this serious to deal with, and tempers and personalities were running high. You were doing your best, but you were so tired and stressed out and you hated, hated the politics of managing people. You needed a leader, an end-of-the-debate voice, and you damn well didn't want it to be yours. You didn't want it to be anyone else's voice, either, but you didn't want that responsibility. 

You needed Rick back. 

Goddamn it. 

 

Nothing was decided, as you had expected. Your group disbanded to take care of separate tasks, and you headed down to talk to Rick. 

More people were on the fences now, you were glad to see, and you just watched for a moment as they moved with the efficiency you'd become proud of. One of the regular crews had ignored orders to rest and were working seamlessly with Daryl and Merle, showing Tyreese and Karen's crew how it was done. It wouldn't be long now before it was clear enough to send people outside the fence to start clearing the bodies to be burned. 

You winced a little when you noticed Carl, blood and guts splattered all over his apron, demonstrating the proper stabbing technique to a teenage boy who looked vaguely familiar. 

That was going to be an issue. 

Rick was with Bessie, just squatting by her side in the little shelter the boys had managed to get assembled before they'd come down to help you in the tunnels. He wasn't really doing whatever it was he was supposed to be doing, though; instead he was watching Carl just as you had been. You sighed a little and came closer. 

"Hey, Cowboy," you greeted him, and he rose stiffly without looking at you. 

Damn, he was pissed. 

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "I didn't mean to get in the middle of something. You're his dad, and I'd never encourage him to go against what you say. I just needed- hell, still need- your help." 

He kept starting away from you for a moment, hands on his belt and one leg jumping a little in a pose you'd seen a thousand times before. He was pissed, but he was thinking. Finally, he dropped his head, jaw twitching, and looked up and over to you. 

"I know," he said, and you felt a rush of relief. "I just worry about him. About me. About all of us. Want him to be a kid as long as he can." 

"Yeah," you answered noncommittally, moving to his side. He reached out a hand and squeezed your shoulder, and you knew the two of you were ok. "Rick, he hasn't really been a kid in a long time. He stopped being a kid on Hershel's farm, maybe even before that. But I'd never go against you when it comes to him. He's your son." You looked your friend in the eye and he gave you a small, sad smile. 

"I know," he said again. "I ain't mad at you for that." He nodded toward the fence, where Carl was now beside Daryl, laughing at something and talking away to your husband as they jabbed out again and again with their crowbars. 

"I can't give you what you want, YN," Rick continued. "I know you want me to be the leader again, but I can't. It about broke me- and Carl- the last time. Got a lot of people hurt." 

You sighed and scuffed the ground with the toe of your hiking boot. "Cowboy, you did right by us. You did everything you could and more. There's- there's some stuff goin' on. I can't- Rick, I can't step into your shoes. I never could, and now I really can't. We need you. I need you." 

He turned to look at you, and you saw something moving over his face. "What's goin' on with you, YN?" he asked quietly. 

"The walkers in the lower levels? They're from-" you started to explain, but Rick shook his head. 

"I ain't talking about the group, or the prison, or the politics. I mean you. My friend. Something's up with you." 

You just stared at him, not really understanding. He squinted into the sunlight toward the prison behind you and huffed out a breath. Then he looked back at you again, the soft smile you'd come to associate with him looking at his family in place. 

"I can tell something's up with you and Daryl, but that's none of my business if you don't want it to be. But you've never struggled to lead anyone, YN, especially not since Woodbury. Hell, you've been the heart and soul of this group for almost three years now. That's why I left you in charge," he said with a grin, and you exploded. 

"I am not in charge!" you yelled at him, pacing a few steps away and then back. "Why does everyone seem to think I am? I am not a leader, damn it!" 

Rick just raised an eyebrow. "The last time you told me that, I was outsides those gates on a full blown trip to Crazytown, as you so kindly put it.You found me looking for my dead wife in woods full of walkers and convinced me to come back to myself. You told me you couldn't lead then, and you're telling me you can't lead now. Why? Because you are a leader. You have been leading. For years," he added that last part with a smile. 

You just shook your head. You were so tired. You were tired of being in charge of all these people, tired of being worried about everyone's safety, tired of not knowing what was happening in your own body. 

You were just freaking tired. 

You felt your eyes well up as Rick spoke again. 

"The last time you asked me to lead, you'd just gotten back from Woodbury. I've never seen you look as exhausted and hurt as you did then, but you're looking close to it right now. What's going on?" His voice was hard and worried as the tears started to slide down your cheeks. 

"I-" you broke off, turning your back to the fence, just in case Daryl or Carl looked over at you. "Rick, I can't- it's too much. I can't do it," was all you managed to get out before the panic attack took you under. 

It had been a long time. They'd come pretty regularly after what the Governor had done to you, and even from before then- from before the dead, when you'd been under the thumb of your abusive ex. You knew what was happening, and you tried to stop it, like you had earlier. 

But you couldn't. Suddenly, you just couldn't get the air in your lungs; they were full of iron that wouldn't move to allow you to inhale or exhale. You were shaking, you could feel it, and you knew you were crying, but it was the breathing that you always focused on the most. 

If you didn't breathe, you'd die. 

There was a hand locked around your throat, a hold over from Shane attacking you in the dark prison hallway; and there was a hand in your hair, yanking hard and causing the throbbing headache that would linger for hours even after you got yourself under control, a hold over from the Governor's attack on the prison. But strongest of all was the voice, your ex's voice, telling you over and over and over that you were a failure, and no good for anything. 

You knew better, but you couldn't fight back, and you stayed there, fighting your own body for control. 

You heard Rick call your name as if he was an ocean away, not right there with his hands gripping your shoulders urgently. Then he looked behind you and called for Daryl, and that was the last thing you heard as the blood roared in your ears and you fought for air. 

 

Daryl was crouched in front of you, his eyes on your face when you realized you could breathe again. You drew in a deep breath, the first full one you'd had in what felt like hours, and he smiled slightly at you. 

"That's right, woman. Breathe. Ain't nothin' wrong with your lungs, your damn brain just don't want you to use them," he rumbled at you, reaching up to rub his thumb across your lower lip and cup your face in his hand. 

He'd stripped off the thick work gloves, but he still wore the blood-and-gut splattered apron, and his eyes were worried. 

"I'm ok," you said quietly, feeling a little ashamed of the strength of the attack. "I had a little incident earlier, before we hit the tunnels, but I guess I didn't take care of it the way I thought I had. Sorry, Dixon. Rick." You glanced between their worried faces guiltily. 

Rick shook his head at you. "Stop that. It's all good if you're ok." 

You nodded, and he looked relieved. You held his eyes as you continued, reaching for Daryl's hand. "Rick. I think I'm pregnant. And there's someone sabotaging the prison, feeding walkers so they swarmed and took out part of the fence. And the Council can't agree on what to do without causing panic in the population, and I can't handle it all. I need your help. We need you to be a leader again." 

Rick stared at the two of you in shock. 

"Don't tell anyone," you said swiftly, recognizing the look in his eyes. "I don't- we don't know for sure. Not yet." 

He looked from you to Daryl and he smiled. "Ok. Congrats, you two. That's amazing news." 

You rolled your eyes as Daryl just grinned at Rick. "Cowboy, come on. What about the rest of it?" 

Rick looked back at you and his smile faded. He looked over your shoulder toward the fence and you followed his gaze to Carl, who was throwing worried looks your way even as he urged everyone else to keep doing their jobs. He clapped Tyreese on the back and pointed at the pickup, and Tyreese nodded and started toward it at a jog, Karen and one of the other guys at his side. 

You knew they'd head out of the gates and start collecting bodies to take to the burn site a mile or two away. 

"I can't," Rick said softly. "I'll help. I'll be here to talk to, give advice. But I- I can't be in charge. I can't be that man anymore, YN. Because I want to tell you to round everyone up and demand answers; demand blood. But that- that isn't right. That isn't who we should be." 

His eyes pleaded for your understanding, but you sighed and looked away. You nodded, once, and he rose. 

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and walked back to his tomato plants.


	6. Awkward Conversations Are Apparently Your Specialty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions/ flashbacks of past rape/non con and abuse  
> mentions of abortion (vaguely)

The next morning, the walker build up was back, and even worse than before. 

You stood at the railing of the guard tower, your favorite morning spot, as the sun came up. Across the field between you, you saw Merle open the door to his tower and walk out as well. He glanced over, and you raised your water bottle in a morning salute. He lifted his arm in response, and turned his attention to the walkers on the fences as well. 

You didn't get it. The fences had been cleared completely before the sun set the night before, the bodies hauled away along with those from the back hallways of the prison. The barricades had been reinforced, and some had been constructed between the edge of the building and where the fence still stood, to keep walkers from breaking into the yard via the broken fence. 

But there shouldn't have been so many of them overnight. 

You heard the door open behind you and you smiled. Daryl's arm snaked around your waist, and he drew you back against his chest. 

"Morning, woman," he whispered in your ear. "Why aren't you still in bed with me?" 

You leaned into him. "Morning, Dixon. See the walkers?" 

He snorted a little into your hair. "I always see the walkers. Yeah, yeah, I know. They're built up again. We'll figure it out." 

You shrugged. "It's not just that they're there. They're always there. There's too many of them. We'll never stay ahead of them if they build up like this." 

Even as you spoke, just in front of you, a group of about ten more shambled out of the woods and joined the press of the others at the gate. 

"More people means more noise, attracts more walkers. We'll just have to get more people on the fences," he offered, chin on your shoulder. 

"But how long until everyone is on the fences all day, and we still can't keep up with them? And why is it so sudden? They were doin' fine when I left the day before yesterday. Then I get back and everything's gone to hell," you fretted. 

Daryl snorted again. "Maybe you should just stop leavin' then." 

It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it. You could feel it in the way he tensed behind you, even as you pushed away from him and turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn't say a word, just glared at him. 

"I didn't mean it like that," he muttered, looking down and away under his shaggy hair. 

You really needed to make him get a damn haircut. You kinda missed seeing his eyes. 

"Really? Are you sure? Because for the past week, since I told you I was late, you've done everything except actually tie me to the gate to get me to stay inside and sit on my ass all day," you hissed. 

It was an argument you were both tired of having, and you saw it flash in the irritation in his eyes. Predictably, he said exactly what you'd thought he would say next. 

"I just want you to be safe, woman! If you're pregnant- then I want you and the baby safe!" 

You rolled your eyes, hard. "Was Lori safe? Because that's what having a baby in this world means to me, Dixon. Brutal, ugly death." 

It was harsh, and you knew it. Maybe it was too harsh. But you were scared, damn it, and you hated- hated- feeling helpless. 

Oh God, you felt so helpless. 

Daryl glared at you and turned away. Your stomach chose that moment to cramp horribly as you caught the smell of- holy shitballs, what was that? 

"Oh God," you moaned, clapping a hand over your mouth and shoving past Daryl and into your tower room. You just barely grabbed the small trashcan before you heaved up what little you'd eaten for dinner the night before. 

Daryl followed you, touching a hand to your back and then to your forehead as you sat back. 

Son of a bitch. 

You looked into his eyes, yours widening as it hit you. "Oh no. Oh no no no no," you started, and then your stomach cramped again. 

There was nothing to throw up that time, so you just dry heaved for awhile before sitting back with a groan. 

"That does it," Daryl muttered as you ran a shaky hand over your face. "I'm goin' out. I'll take Merle, maybe Carl if Rick'll let me. We're gonna find a damn pregnancy test. Ain't no way enough people in this fuckin' place have been boning for every test in the area to be gone." 

"Daryl..." you started, but in the face of the churning nausea in your gut, the exhaustion you'd had the day before, and the fact that your period still hadn't shown up, your arguments were starting to sound weak even to you. 

And boy did that piss you off. 

You were not going to be caged here, even if you were pregnant. He needed to know that, and accept it, and he needed to do so now. 

Before the resentment you were both feeling undermined the two of you completely. 

"Dixon," you started again, grabbing his hands and looking him in the eyes. "We need to know. I get it. But- we have to talk about this. We need to set some rules." 

He looked away from you, jaw working as he fought every instinct you knew he was facing to just declare that you'd stay safe and out of everything. But he respected you too much for that. 

If there was one thing you knew about Daryl Dixon, it was that he respected you too much to try to force you to be safe. After all, he'd agreed to your (insane, even you could see it now; but still the only viable option) plan to waltz right back to the Governor after he'd raped you in Woodbury. 

It had been the right play, but you knew what it had cost Daryl to agree to. Which was why he pissed you off so badly now, as he tried to get you to sit on the sidelines. 

"Yeah," he said finally, looking back at you. "I know you can't be safe all the time. But if you're pregnant- it's a baby. We all kept Lori out of the action, for her and Lil Asskicker's sake. Why wouldn't you do the same?" 

You tensed, but you tried to answer his question in the spirit it was offered. "Because I can't be a victim." 

He scowled and started to interrupt, but you held up a hand. "I mean it, Dixon. I can promise to be more careful. I can promise that when- if- I get too big to fight; if I or other people see that I'm slowing down or in more danger than normal, I'll stay out of the action. I can promise not to volunteer for anything unless we talk it over. But I won't- I can't- be caged." 

His jaw was working again as you spoke, but he was nodding. "I can- I can live with that. For now." 

"It's early yet, if I even am," you said seriously. "I won't show for awhile, and it won't hinder me for awhile. I'm not- Daryl, please. You have to understand that I don't want this. I don't want to be a mother. Not in this world. It's too much of a burden." 

"What are you sayin'?" he asked harshly, and you shook your head. 

"I won't take any damn pills. I won't pull a Lori. I'd never do that, not to you. I know you want this, and if I am, I know I'll love our baby. I'll die for our baby. But I just- I don't want a baby. Not yet. Not until the world is fixed." 

"What if it's never fixed?" 

You looked away from him. "Then we'd talk about it later. Hell, Daryl, we haven't even been married a year."

"Does that really matter?" he growled, and you sighed. 

"No. Not really. Just... I just want you to know where I am. I don't want you to hate me if I'm not pregnant and I'm happy about it. Or if I am pregnant and I'm not happy." 

He sat next to you and pulled you close to his side. "I won't hate you. Ever. No matter what. You think I ain't scared? Hell, I'm terrified. I remember Lori too. I saw Rick, and I was so pissed at him. How could he just lose it like that?" 

Daryl's arms tightened around you, and he ran his hand over your hair once before dropping it back to your arm, where his fingers started tracing random patterns over your skin.

The gesture should have comforted you, but it just made you sad. There was a time when he would have tangled his fingers in your hair, or stroked it over and over, combing his fingers through the strands until you both felt relaxed. But ever since the Governor-

-a hand gripping your hair and shoving you facedown onto a table; a hand grabbing a handful of your hair and jerking you out of a truck and throwing you down onto a broken rib that hadn't had a chance to heal; a hand forcing your head back as he laughed and asked if it had been good for you- 

You stopped that train of thought in its tracks. You didn't handle hands in your hair well anymore, and you both knew it. Daryl was good about that, but it cost him some. He loved touching your hair, and especially when one of you was worried. 

You remembered the night before you put your plan to protect the prison into action, laying stretched out in the darkness against this very tower. Your head in Daryl's lap, and his fingers combing through your hair, gently, until you fell asleep. You hated that the Governor had taken that from you both. 

Daryl was speaking again. "I get it now. How he could just snap like that. If that happened to you- I don't know. I think I'd kill every walker in the state of Georgia before I came back to myself, if I ever did." 

You shook your head against his chest. "No, you wouldn't. You'd have the baby to think of. You wouldn't go crazy." 

He grunted. "Naw. Rick would take care of the baby for me while I was busy. Only fair." 

You laughed, like he wanted you too, and snuggled a little closer to him. 

God, you felt like crap. 

"I'm so tired. Feel like I can't get enough rest the past few days," you murmured, knowing full well he was trying to put you to sleep as he rubbed your back. 

"Then go back to sleep. I'll get Merle and Grimes, and we'll be back this afternoon. Ain't nothin' goin' on that the other can't handle without you." 

That had you blinking the sleep from your eyes and sitting up, scowling at him. "If that were true, then why the hell are there so many walkers at our gates?" You demanded, and climbed to your feet. 

"Come on, Dixon. Let's get to work," you said, and he shook his head at you with a scowl, but he didn't say anything. 

 

At the foot of the stairs, he pulled you into a hard kiss. A cheer went up from the assorted breakfasters, as did a chorus of "morning, Daryl", "hey YN", "Hey Dixons" when you broke apart. Merle was leaning against the outdoor kitchen, talking to Carol, and she was grinning up at him as he did. 

Hmmm. That was interesting. 

"Hey, Dixon, do you think-" you broke off suddenly when he glanced at you. "Never mind," you said quickly, shaking your head. Daryl was not the right person to ask about the possibility of his brother and Carol and feelings. He wouldn't know who to be more protective of, Carol or Merle. 

He just gave you a look, but then you were there at the kitchen. 

"Hey, Dixons," Carol said cheerfully. "YN, want some breakfast?" 

You felt your stomach churn again. "Oh God no. Thanks, though," you said quickly, and she shrugged. 

Daryl took the offered bowl and scowled as people kept calling out greetings to him. "Merle. We're goin' out. I'mma see if Rick'll let us take Carl too," he told his brother between bites. Merle glanced between the two of you. 

"All right. You comin', little sister?" he asked you with a nod, and you shook your head. 

"No, I've got stuff to take care of here. Carol, we need to chat when you're done. Fences, kids, etc," you added meaningfully. She grimaced, but nodded. 

"Patrick," she called, and a kid came to her side. It was the same kid who had looked vaguely familiar on the fence with Carl yesterday. 

Oh yeah, the three of you had brought him and his adult sister in a few months ago. He was kinda nerdy and nervous, but he was just a little older than Carl and the two of them hung out sometimes. 

"You want to take over?" Carol asked him with a smile, holding out her tongs. 

"Yes, ma'am!" he said, shoving his glasses up his nose as he came to her side. Daryl kissed your head and started to duck away with Merle, but the kid stopped him. 

"Uh, Mr. Dixon?" 

Both Daryl and Merle looked up sharply. Merle's shit eating grin spread as the four of you regarded the kid. He blushed a little, but held Daryl's gaze. 

"I just wanted to thank you. For bringing in the supplies yesterday. And I'd be honored to shake your hand." The kid stuck his hand out, standing up super straight. 

Merle looked like he was going to explode, but you glared at him. Daryl looked from the kid to you in bewilderment, and you just jerked your head in the kid's direction. Hell, let the kid do a little hero worship. 

You were just glad it wasn't directed at you. 

Daryl looked at the kid again, staring at his outstretched hand a moment. Slowly, he licked his fingers and wiped them on his shirt before slapping the kids hand with his own. Patrick pumped his hand once, firmly, then turned back to dishing up breakfast with a thrilled grin on his face. 

You and Daryl locked eyes as Merle walked off, his shoulders shaking with laughter. 

"I ain't gonna hear the end of that one all damn day," Daryl grumped to you, but he was smiling too. 

"Play nice. Be safe. I love you," you whispered to him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He touched your face gently and headed off after his brother. 

Carol was watching you when you turned back to her. "I know what you want to talk about," she said as the two of you fell into step, wandering away from the people. "You want to talk about the kids. Training them." 

You snorted. "Carol, I don't give a rats ass about that. I want to talk about Rick. We need our fearless leader back." You nodded in Rick's direction, where he and Carl were talking to Daryl and Merle as the two of them headed out. 

She sighed. "I know. He's all kinds of messed up right now, though. He can't seem to get past some of the things he did; things he said and was willing to do." 

"I know," you agreed quietly. "I just don't know why. Or what to do about it. He's got to freaking snap out of it." 

She shook her head and put a hand on your shoulder. "He'll be ok eventually. Promise. In the meantime, we've got the fence repair under control, there's more than enough backup routes out of here, and the walker buildup on the fences isn't unmanagable- yet. We're ok. There's no crisis that needs your attention, so why don't you go back up and go to sleep? You need it." 

You gave her a look. "Why do you say that?" 

She just grinned at you and leaned in closer. "Because I remember being pregnant with Sophia. You're crabby, exhausted, and nauseated. Go take a nap." 

"Does everyone know?" you hissed at her, looking around wildly. 

"No, no," she reassured you. "I think I'm the only one who's noticed. How far along are you?" 

"I don't- I don't even know for sure," you admitted. "We're out of tests. Less than two months, if I am. I'm a couple weeks late. Today's the first day I've been sick or anything. Could be a fluke." You sounded pitiful to your own ears and you scowled. 

Carol had one eyebrow raised. "Is that where the boys are going? To find a test?" 

You nodded. "Among other things. There's more stuff we need, and they'll bring back whatever they can." 

"And it's why Daryl's been extra protective, why he and Merle cut their supply run short," she mused, looking back toward the people milling around the prison. "And why you've been taking heads off. You don't want a baby. Smart," she said, looking at you. 

You sighed. "Daryl does."

"Of course he does. You've seen him with Judith," Carol snorted. "You saw him when Sophia went missing. He's a born father, and he'll be amazing at it. But-" she gestured all around, toward the walkers and everything. "I get why you don't want one. This is a hard life to bring a kid into. You saw what happened to Lori, and you're a fighter. You're not a stay on the sidelines type." 

"Exactly!" You pointed at her. "That is precisely right! Ugh. He doesn't get it." 

"Well, he worries. We all do. With the Governor..." she trailed off, looking away from you guilty. 

With the Governor what? 

"What do you mean?" you asked, warily. 

She just shrugged. "Well, honey, you were messed up for awhile. You've come a long way, but we all understand how traumatic that was. We just worry about you, you know?" 

There was something distinctly evasive in her tone and her eyes, but you really didn't want to push. 

Besides, you were tired of handling everything yourself. 

"Sure. Whatever," you said, giving her a look. "So, what's up with you and Merle?" 

"Wha- what?" she stuttered, looking away from you and blushing hard. "Nothing's going on with me and Merle. Why would you say that?" 

You snorted, feeling yourself smile a little. "Oh, I don't know. You've seemed a little flirty here lately. I just can't figure out who I need to warn not to break the other's heart- you or Merle!" You nudged her shoulder with yours as she mumbled something inaudible. 

"You don't need to warn anyone about anything. There's nothing going on there," she said, not meeting your eyes. You took pit on her and laughed. 

"Carol, honey, he's a good man. I think you'd both be happy. But I'm going back to bed. Come get me if the place goes up in flames or some such crap."


	7. And Here We Go Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence

It happened sometime in the night. Your boys had gotten back safely, but they'd been- to your eternal lack of surprise- unsuccessful. They'd brought back a deer and some goods, but no pregnancy tests. 

Oh well, more suspense. 

Not that you were really wondering anymore, after puking your dinner up again the next morning as the smell of cooking venison drifted up to the tower. 

Goddamn it. 

You were leaning against the railing in the early morning light when the screaming and shooting started. 

You were into the tower in a flash, grabbing your knife in one hand and gun in the other as Daryl leapt from the bed, eyes wide. 

"Come on, Dixon! D block!" you said, tearing down the stairs with him at your heels. 

"Help! Help! Please, come quick!" The little girl who had gotten lost and her sister came running out of D block. 

"Cell block?" Maggie screamed from her and Glenn's tower, and you saw Rick and Carl, who had just come out of C moving at a dead run toward D as well. 

"D!" you screamed back. 

"We followed the plan," came Sasha's voice, so you knew the lower levels were sealed in C block and Hershel was on guard. 

"It ain't a breech!" Daryl called as your groups met up and charged the doors to D block. 

 

Inside, it was chaos. People were screaming and running, dead were on the ground, and some guy stood by the door, gun in hand, just frozen. 

You ripped the gun from the guy's hands and tossed it to Rick without a word. He snatched it out of the air and gestured further in on the ground level. 

"Daryl!" he snapped. 

"I got it," Daryl snarled, shoving his way into the block and past the milling crowds of people. 

You left Rick where he was, shepherding people out of the cell block. You could hear him asking over and over again if people were bit. 

You followed Daryl, snatching up a curly-haired little boy and shoving him into Karen's arms as Daryl took out the walker that had been after the boy. You saw Daryl grab another girl and shove her toward you and Karen, and then you were just moving through the people trying to save as many as you could. 

How had this happened? There were too many walkers in here, and you watched a woman get bit right in front of you as you struggled to get to her. 

"Check all of them! Every cell!" you heard Rick's voice coming from below as you followed Daryl up the stairs to the upper level. "Are we clear down here? Are we safe?" 

You registered Sasha and Karen calling them clear, but you were covering Daryl's back. Glenn moved ahead of the two of you, and a walker popped out of nowhere. He had it at bay, but Daryl had his bow loaded already. 

"Down!" he called, and Glenn dropped just before the walker did. 

You pulled Glenn to his feet, and the three of you stood around the walker. 

"It's Patrick," Daryl said softly.   
Sure enough, it was the same kid who had been so excited to shake Daryl's hand the day before. It was the same kid who hung out with Carl, reading comics and talking about the superheroes in them, arguing which hero would be better against the walkers. 

Carl usually said Hawkeye, and would look over at you and Daryl and grin. 

"Jesus," you whispered. You turned away, checking the last of the cells on the upper level. "That's all of them." 

 

Twelve dead. There were twelve dead, and as far as you could tell, it had started with Patrick. 

The only good to come out of it, that you could see, was seeing Rick take charge and be Rick again, his knife in his hand and dripping with walker blood. 

Not something, you were aware, that most people would see as a good thing. But you just wanted your friend to lead. 

When he walked by the last cell block, one with the door closed and secured, and a walker popped out at him, Rick jumped a little. 

Hell, you all jumped a little. 

But Rick didn't hesitate. He just sighed and shoved his knife through the walker's skull, yanking it back and shaking off the blood. 

Dr. S had come up during cleanup and was taking a look at the last one while you and Rick bent over it as well. 

"I think he just died," Rick said softly. 

"Horribly, too," Dr. S commented. 

"Choked to death on his own blood." Hershel put in from behind you. You hadn't even heard him come in, but you were glad he had. Dr. S was a good guy, but you didn't trust him like you did Hershel. "Caused those trails down his face." 

"I've seen them before, on a walker outside the fence." Rick looked up from where he was crouched over the body. 

"I saw 'em on Patrick, too," Daryl added. 

You felt something drop like lead into your gut. 

"Son of a bitch," you whispered. "We've got disease."

They all looked at you, but you gestured to Dr. S. He started talking, as did the others, about how it could spread and what it likely was. You tuned them all out, thinking instead about the future. It didn't matter how or what, what mattered was what to do about it now. 

"Bugs like to run through close quarters," came Bob's voice behind you. Bob was relatively new, someone you and Daryl had found just walking down the road, alone. Much the same way you'd been just walking down a road, alone, when Daryl had found you. 

"It don't get much closer than this," you agreed softly. 

"All of us in here, we've all been exposed," Hershel said, and your blood ran cold. 

Daryl's head whipped around to meet your eyes, but you shook your head at him slightly. You'd talk to Hershel privately later, about your suspicions, but you didn't want to get into it right here and now, in front of all these people. He narrowed his eyes at you but nodded just a touch, finally. 

None of you said anything, just looked around grimly. 

 

You and Rick went out together. Daryl stayed behind, wanting to help with the bodies, but he just pointed to the door when you started to volunteer as well. He didn't say a word, just stared you down until you finally sighed. You stepped in and kissed him, hard, and he kissed you back the same. 

"Thank you," he whispered, grabbing your hand as you turned to go. You squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile as you ducked out the door behind Rick. 

"You ok?" Rick asked, and you shrugged. 

"I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant. Can't find a damn test anywhere, though. There's an infection in our home. We just had walkers take out twelve of our people from the inside, and I can't remember any of their names except Patrick's. Everyone keeps telling me I'm the leader of this group, but I can't even keep myself safe, much less this many people. There's walker build up on the fences, and oh yeah- the breech we had two days ago? Was because someone is feeding the damn walkers. And it took out C block's emergency escape route, and I haven't been able to figure out another one," you bitched. 

Rick started to respond when you saw Carl and Maggie supporting a limping Michonne between them. 

"Dad!" Carl called, running over to the two of you even as you and Rick both held up your hands to keep him back. 

"Carl, don't-" you started, but he threw his arms around you first and then Rick. 

"Dad, I'm sorry," he said, and you were shocked at way his voice sounded. "I didn't see you come out." 

"It's ok. I'm here. I'm fine," Rick said gently, trying not to touch Carl with the walker blood on his hands. "But back away."

Carl obeyed, but he was talking even as he did. "I had to use one of the guns by the gate. I swear, I didn't want to." 

You raised an eyebrow at Rick even as Michonne chimed in. 

"I was coming back. I fell. They came out and helped me," she said, and she was giving Rick the same slightly disapproving look you were. 

You got it; really. Carl was a little trigger happy. You'd heard from both Rick and Carl about the kid Carl had shot when the Governor's people had run from the prison. 

You didn't give a shit. You knew what Hershel's story was, and you knew what Carl had told you. You trusted Carl's gut. Rick had gotten a little anal about Carl not using guns, though, and you'd been listening to both of them bitch about the other for like nine months. But for God's sake, was Rick going to pitch a fit about Carl shooting walkers? 

Rick looked at Michonne. "You alright?" He asked. 

She nodded, arm still around Maggie's shoulders. Maggie gripped her hand tightly, obviously worried. 

"What happened in there?" she asked. 

"Patrick got sick last night," you said. Carl's eyes shot to you and you held his gaze. "I'm sorry, Grimes. Some kind of flu. It moves.... fast." 

"We think he died and attacked the cell block. Glenn and your Dad are ok, but they were in there," Rick added to Maggie. "You shouldn't get too close to anyone that might have been exposed, at least for a little while." 

 

Carl ducked back immediately, going to Michonne's side as Maggie nodded. 

"Carl. All of you," you said, giving him a warning look. He scowled at you, but nodded. You and Rick looked at each other with a sigh. 

 

"We'll have to separate everyone that's been exposed," Carol said. The council was gathered to meet, sitting around a table in meeting room outside the main area of D block. Everyone on the Council except Merle had already been in D. Merle was left out of the meeting for that reason, and he was pissed about it. 

You'd already heard a few rumors about how that 'Dixon discussion' had gone when Daryl went to tell Merle he couldn't come to the meeting or D block or get too close to either of you. Merle had invented some new profanity before storming off to do something about the fences. 

"That's everyone in that cell block. That's all of us. Maybe more," Daryl said, concerned. He straddled the chair he was in, gripping the sides of it hard. He was more worried than he wanted to let on, mostly about you. 

The two of you had already had a whispered, vicious discussion of your own, but there was nothing he could do about it now. You'd already been exposed. 

"We know that this sickness can be lethal. We don't know ho easily it spreads. Is anyone else showing symptoms that we know of?" Hershel asked. 

"We can't just wait and see," Carol said. "There's children. It isn't just the illness. People die, they become a threat."

Everyone was nodding, you included. Walkers on the inside were everyone's worst nightmare. 

"We need a place for them to go," Hershel said. "They can't stay in D. We can't risk going back in the main rooms to clean it up." 

"We can use block A," you offered. 

"Death row? I'm not sure that's much of an upgrade," Glenn put in. 

"It's clean. That's an upgrade," Daryl said. 

So far, you'd avoided using A block because of the bad connotations. You'd had a hell of a fight with most everyone on the Council about it while you'd be restructuring the blocks for all the marriages. Who the hell cared what it had been? You were all sleeping in cells in a prison for Christ's sake. What difference did the cell block make? 

You'd been overruled, and now you were kind of grateful. 

"Think that'll work for Dr. S?" you asked Hershel. 

"I'll help Caleb get it set up," he agreed. 

Then the sound of coughing drifted down the hall. 

You closed your eyes and heaved a sigh. Everyone else rose, but you stayed where you were. 

You didn't want to know who it was. 

 

You were sitting beside Daryl watching him while he dug a grave. He was pissed as holy hell that you were there, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. You weren't digging, you were away from the bodies, and you had tied a bandanna around your face the same as he had. 

You were as safe as everyone else had been. 

Rick came down the trail, shaking his head when he saw you sitting there. 

"You shouldn't be here," he said, grabbing a shovel off the ground. Daryl's crossbow was propped on a third, and Tyreese had been here earlier, after getting Karen settled. 

Karen and David. They were the ones showing symptoms. You felt like shit that you didn't even know who David was, and you'd been with Daryl and Rick when they brought his group in. 

"That's what I said," Daryl growled, heaving out another shovel full of dirt. 

"Shut up, both of you. I'm already exposed. I'll do as I please," you snarled at both of them. 

They exchanged a look that had you shoving to your feet and pacing with a scowl. 

"Are we fuckin' done now? Are you gonna help me figure this out, or what?" you snapped at them. 

Daryl just shot you an amused glance and nodded. Rick hesitated, shaking his head. 

"I'm here for anything else this place needs. I can't go making those kinds of calls again, the kinds you guys will have to make," he said quietly. "I made too many mistakes. Almost lost my boy." 

"For what it's worth," Daryl said mildly. "You see it as mistakes. What I see is when the shit hits the fan, you're right here holdin' a shovel." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully at Rick and you felt your lips twitch. 

"Rick! Daryl! YN!" Maggie's voice was a shriek splitting the air. 

All three of you looked up at her wild eyes. "Quick!" she yelled, gesturing to the fence. 

"Shit, shit, shit," you chanted, seeing the group of walkers pressing in so hard on the outer fence it was starting to buckle. 

Daryl snatched his bow even as you were already in motion, running full out toward Maggie. He and Rick caught up to you in seconds, and there was no time for him to argue about you coming along. 

Maggie snatched a crowbar from one of your rolling bins and you just yanked your machete out as the boys did the same.

"Noise drew 'em out and not this part's starting to give!" she called over her shoulder, dropping one through the fence on the fly. 

The four of you skidded to a halt where the fence was buckling, and you saw Rick hesitate as he looked a walker in the face. You had dropped two already, but then he was in motion. Daryl was on your other side, and Glenn, Tyreese, and Sasha came in to help further down the line. Rick turned into a machine, and you settled into the rhythm of taking out walkers with a grin on your face. 

You loved this, fighting side by side with your family. You needed this in your life. 

"Are you seeing this?" Sasha called from down the fence a bit. Daryl gave you a look and jerked his head in her direction. You rolled your eyes but jogged down to take a look. 

"Fuck!" you yelled when you saw what she was pointing to. "We've got more rats!" 

The fence started to groan and fall in on itself. 

"Rick, we need a plan!" You yelled, flinging yourself back into the fray at his side. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered, holding the fence up by sheer willpower with the rest of you. "Back! Everybody back now!" he snapped suddenly. 

He looked over his shoulder to his pigpen and sighed heavily. "YN, get the truck. I know what to do." 

 

Daryl drove. You rode shotgun. Rick was perched in the back, with his piglets. 

Poor pigs. 

Poor Rick. 

The pigs represented a dream to him- and to you. But you knew he was right to do what he was going to do. 

The pigs were sick. Violet had already died, and birds and pigs were how these kinds of things spread. The pigs had to go, and the walkers had to be drawn away from the fences so they could be reinforced. Two birds, one stone.

But it was going to hurt Rick. It was going to kill off a part of the Farmer Rick persona he'd put on, and you ached for him. As much as you teased him, as much as you wanted your fearless Cowboy leader and friend back, you knew he'd gone through shit all before this. You knew how much he needed this break, and how much he needed the hope it had sparked in him. 

You just had to hope he'd survive this and still be your friend. 

You covered Rick, standing in the passenger seat of the Jeep, holding your rifle steady on the walkers as you waited to get their attention. The others were still behind the fence, taking out the stragglers and ready to get the reinforcing beams in place along the line of bent fencing. 

"Let's go!" Daryl called impatiently as most of the herd headed your way. Rick nodded, and grabbed the first of his pigs. You saw his sadness as he hamstrung it and tossed, squealing, to the walkers. 

Your heart broke for him as he did it over and over again, and then he took a spray of blood to the face. 

Goddamn it. 

You watched your friend cry as you drove back toward home, and you cried a little too, for him. 

You honestly hadn't thought it could get worse, but Tyreese met you at the gate.


	8. Got Your Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence

You stood over the bodies trying very hard not to puke. The smell of burning flesh was worse than anything Carol had ever cooked, and the sight- 

Well, you'd seen burned bodies before. You'd been on the walker burning crews more than once and hadn't batted an eye. But these were people. Your people. 

Karen and David's remains were black and charred and twisted, still sending off faint smoke at the end of terrifying blood trails. 

What the hell was happening in your prison? 

"You found them like this?" Rick asked, his voice rough. 

You had a death grip on Daryl's hand, but as Tyreese turned blank eyes toward Rick you let go and took a slight step to the side. Something in his expression was off, wrong, and that vague sense of unease you often felt around him was screaming at you now. You glanced at Daryl, who held his crossbow casually. He clearly didn't feel it. 

Then you looked over at Carol, who stood, eyes on the bodies. Her hand rested on her knife- the badass one with the brass knuckles built into the handle that you had really, really wanted but hadn't been able to justify claiming for your own when you'd found it. There was something off in her eyes, too, but she looked up at you and your wary stance and nodded, her eyes moving back to Tyreese and Rick. 

"I came to see Karen... And I saw the blood on the floor." 

You couldn't blame Tyreese for his shell-shocked voice. He and Karen had been together, and if you'd found Daryl like this- 

Fuck, you didn't think there'd be anyone left alive in this place when you were done. 

This had obviously been one of your people. Maybe even the same sick fuck who'd been feeding the walkers. 

"Then I smelled them," Tyreese added in an almost whisper. 

You retched a little as your stomach heaved, and suddenly you were grateful that you hadn't eaten anything in about two days. Throwing up in front of Rick and Tyreese was something you most definitely did not want to do. 

Daryl's hand reached out to you and you waved yours in a vague 'I'm fine' gesture. He nodded and turned his attention back to Tyreese and Rick. 

"Somebody dragged them out here and set them on fire!" Tyreese yelled. "They killed them and set them on fire!" 

You had so much sympathy for the man, your heart aching at what he must be feeling- until he turned and was suddenly up in Rick's face. 

"You're a cop," he said, quieter, but it didn't matter. Daryl was already behind him, watching Rick's face for any sign he needed to move, and you had stepped to Rick's side the moment Tyreese turned to him. 

Tyreese didn't even notice. "You find out who did this and you bring them to me. You understand? You bring them to me!"

Rick was nodding, looking down and away, desperately trying to diffuse the obviously volatile man. It wasn't that you all didn't understand his rage and anger, Rick most of all. Hell, Rick had first met Tyreese shortly after Lori died and had waved a gun in the big man's face. You all got it. You just really wanted him to take a step away from your friend. 

If it came down to a choice, it'd be Rick over Tyreese in a heartbeat. 

"We'll find out who--" Daryl started, reaching a hand to Tyreese's shoulder, but Tyreese shoved his hand off. 

You snarled, moving in closer, but Daryl waved you back as Tyreese kept staring Rick down. 

"I need to say it again?" he asked. 

"No. No," Rick started, giving Tyreese what you'd teased was Rick's 'compassionate leader' face. "I know what you're feelin'. I've been there," he said, moving a little closer and looking Tyreese in the eyes. Trying to connect. 

"You saw me there. It's dangerous," he continued. 

"Karen didn't deserve this!" Tyreese exploded. "David didn't deserve this. Nobody does!" 

As Rick looked down and away, agreeing with Tyreese and still trying to diffuse him, Daryl got fed up. 

"All right, man, let's-" he began, grabbing Tyreese's shoulder, and Tyreese lost it. 

He shoved Daryl back up into the wall, screaming about how he wasn't going anywhere. You were moving forward in an instant, knife in hand and ready for blood, but Daryl held out a hand to you, keeping you all back. Rick and Carol had moved in at your side, and your eyes were locked on Tyreese's hands in Daryl's vest. 

"We're on the same side, man," Daryl said quietly, looking Tyreese in the eyes. You waited, like he'd asked with his outstretched hand, but your knife was out and ready. Tyreese moved again or took a swing at your husband, and you were prepared to kill him right then and there. 

The choice would always be clear. Your people over anyone else. 

"I know what you're goin' through," Rick was practically whispering. "We've all lost someone. We know what you're goin' through right now, but you- you've got to calm down."

He touched his hand to Tyreese's shoulder and the big man just snapped. You were angling for a position, Carol trying to shove you back and out of the way- everyone got so damn overprotective, for fuck's sake- when Tyreese threw the first punch, clocking Rick right across the jaw. 

Shit. 

That was literally what you'd been trying to avoid, and it sure as hell hadn't been because you were worried about Rick. 

Carol was screaming for them to stop, and Daryl jumped in on Tyreese's back after Tyreese punched again, saying it was enough, but you knew. You were watching Rick, and you saw the moment your friend lost the control he'd been holding onto tightly. He touched his jaw, spat blood, and then was on Tyreese in a flash. 

Daryl ducked out of the way as Rick came in, and you just stepped back to watch the show. 

Cowboy had Tyreese on the ground with two hits, and was laying into his face when Daryl jumped onto Rick's back. 

"Rick! That's enough!" he yelled, and Rick started to turn on Daryl. 

"Let go of me! Let go of me!" Rick was screaming, and the crazy was in his eyes. 

"No!" Daryl snarled, and Rick shoved him away. 

But Rick was back. Daryl had done enough, and your friend looked down at the bloodied man at his feet and then at his own shaking, blood covered hand. You saw the fear in his eyes and stepped to his side, pulling the bandanna out of your back pocket and handing it to him without a word. 

 

You stayed just outside the room while Hershel worked on Rick, listening as the old man spoke in his calm, slow drawl. He tended to Rick's hand and you were glad to hear it was just a sprain, but it was Hershel trying to get Rick to open up that you were really grateful for. 

Hershel still acted as the group's psychologist, and though you'd depended on him way less than when you'd first come back from Woodbury, you loved the way he cared for everyone. The two of you had sometimes met up at the fences to compare notes when one of your friends was in particularly dire need. 

Like Rick. You two had been tag-teaming Rick for months, but it didn't seem to be having any effect. 

You fought back a sigh as you heard Hershel telling Rick about the Council meeting in the morning. 

"I think I've done enough damage for one day," Rick said, and the shame and self-loathing in his voice made your chest tighten. 

You hated how your friend hated himself. 

"I've fallen off the wagon before," Hershel said, his voice a little sharper. Good, no tolerance for Rick's self pity. It was self pity that would ruin Rick forever. 

"That's what this is?" Rick asked, and you could picture him raising his injured hand and giving Hershel that look. 

"Pretty close," Hershel agreed. "When it happened, I didn't stand around feeling bad about it. I got back up. I had responsibilities." 

Go Hershel! Drive that point home! You would have cheered if you hadn't been trying to keep quiet. You shifted around a little, leaning your side against the wall and tipping your head to touch it. 

You were so tired. 

Being pregnant sucked so far. 

"People to keep safe," you heard Hershel finish, and then there was silence. 

When Rick emerged a few minutes later, his hand was bandaged and you were practically asleep against the wall. 

"What the hell are you doin', YN?" Rick asked, sighing when he saw you. 

You opened your eyes and pushed yourself away from the wall. You studied him for a long moment without a word, and his eyes kept sliding from yours to the ground in shame. Finally you just shook your head, and did the only thing you knew how to do for your friend. 

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. 

He didn't even resist. He chuckled a little, but it wasn't a happy sound, and wrapped his arms around you in return. You rested your chin on his shoulder and he laid his cheek on your hair. Your eyes were open, staring into the hallway behind you as you tried to find the words you knew your friend desperately needed. 

"Cowboy," you began slowly, not moving and not letting him pull away. "It's tough. I know. You're taking time, and you've earned it. You have. But you can't-" 

You broke off for a moment, shaking your head a little and squeezing him tighter. You stepped back a bit as you let him go, but kept a hand on his shoulder. 

"You can't let the grief beat you. You fucked up, more than once, while leading us. It's true," you said, holding his eyes steady. He scoffed a little, but that was what he wanted. He wanted people to acknowledge his mistakes, to stop looking to him for answers because of them. 

You could give him the first half easily, but he had to come to terms with the second half, because none of you were going to stop asking him for help. 

"You fucked up. But. But look at what else you've done. How many of us are alive because of you? How many people have you brought into this community? Hell, if you hadn't taken a chance on me, I wouldn't be here right now," you said with a shrug, but Rick blew that one off. 

"That was Daryl more than anything. And I think you've more than earned your place here." 

"Damn right I have. But without you takin' the chance, I wouldn't have been able to. Rick, you're a good leader. You got a little crazy, but in case you haven't noticed, we all do. The fuckin' dead are walkin' around, my friend. Crazy's ok," you said with a laugh, and he chuckled too. 

"You can't let guilt and self loathing tear you up. If you can't make the hard choices alone anymore, that's fine. If you're worried about goin' off the deep end, that's fine. You're not alone, Rick. We've got your back. I've got your back," you added, stepping into his space and forcing him to meet your eyes. "I'll always, always, have your back. And you know I won't hesitate to tell you when you're makin' the wrong call. Loudly, and possibly violently," you added with a small grin. 

He snorted, unable to stop the smile that tugged up his lips even as he scuffed his boot along the floor uncomfortably. You were both thinking of an argument you'd had months ago, where you'd told him your plan for taking down the Governor. You hadn't back down to him then even when he argued, loudly and a little violently, that it was the wrong call. And you'd been right: it had worked, with a minimum of death and damage. 

Just two casualties, really: the Governor himself, and the kid Carl had shot to keep Judith, Beth, and Hershel safe. 

"I know you do. And you will," Rick whispered. "It's myself I don't trust. To listen, and not just go against everyone's warnings." 

You patted his shoulder. "I get that," you assured him. "But I've got you. Dixon beats Grimes in the stubbornness department." 

He laughed out loud at that. "Have you ever heard me and Carl fight?" 

"Yeah. But you don't have a whole group of people naming your fights," you teased, and he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

"The point is, Cowboy," you said seriously. "I've got you. You aren't alone, and we've got your back. We just need you to have ours."


	9. Murder and Mayhem, Your Two Best Friends

"It's spreading," Hershel said grimly. "Everyone who survived D block is infected. So are Sasha, Caleb, and now others." 

The Council- plus and minus a few members- were gathered in the meeting room off D block. Maggie, Glenn, Michonne, Hershel, Carol, Merle, Daryl, and you were seated around the table, with Maggie, Michonne, and Merle on the far side of the room from those of you who'd been exposed, wearing bandannas over the lower halves of their faces. 

The masks honestly just made them all look even more badass, armed as the three of them were and splattered with guts; you'd already observed that they looked like they were a band of particularly gruesome bank robbers. No one had appreciated your humor.

Oh well, you'd tried.

Despite their faces being blocked, you could see the worry they were all feeling. Merle in particular was glaring at you specifically, as if pissed off that you'd been exposed. You scowled back at him, daring him to say anything. 

"Jesus," Daryl muttered beside you. He reached for your hand under the table and you took it, needed him as much as he needed you. 

"So what do you we do?" Carol asked.

"First things first," you began with a glance at Hershel. "Cell block A is isolation. We keep the sick people there like we tried to do with Karen and David." 

"The hell we gonna do about that?" Daryl added, voice harsh. 

"Ask Rick to look into it. Try to make a timeline, who's where when," Carol put in. "But what are we gonna do to stop this?" 

"Rick might be willing to do that, but he won't be the leader we need," you muttered, irritated all over again. "I'll ask. And I have no idea." 

"There is no stopping it," Hershel said, his voice heavy. "You get it, you have to go through it." 

"But it just kills you," Michonne put in grimly. 

"The illness doesn't. The symptoms do. We need antibiotics," Hershel replied. 

"We've been through every pharmacy nearby," Daryl said grimly. His hand was tight in yours, and you knew he was worried about the amount of exposure you'd already had. 

Hell, you were worried about him, too. You were worried about all of you. 

You glanced over the faces around you again and noticed that same fear in everyone's eyes. And you noticed that Glenn was looking pale and sweaty and you felt something cold sliding through your veins. He met your eyes and nodded slightly, and you knew. You trusted him to announce it himself, though, and tuned back into the discussion. 

"That veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech- that's one place people may not have thought to raid for medication. The drugs for animals there are the same we need." 

God bless Hershel and his quiet competence.

"That's fifty miles," Merle snarled. 

"Too big a risk before," you agreed. 

"Ain't now," Daryl slapped his hand on his leg. "I'm gonna take a group out. Best not waste anymore time." 

"I'll come, little brother," Merle said grimly. 

You looked at Daryl and he pointed a finger at you immediately. "Hell no, woman. You're stayin' put, and stayin' out of the way of anybody infected. You ain't gettin' this," he snarled. 

You glared at him, rising to stand toe to toe with him. "Don't tell me what to do, Dixon," you growled. 

"Goddamn it, woman! You're pregnant! Fightin's bad enough, and I know I cain't stop you from that, but this is sickness! You could die, or lose the baby, or both!" He yelled, gesturing wildly. 

You pressed your lips together and sighed as the hush descended on the room. "Well, the cat's out of that bag. Thanks, Dixon." 

"I'll go with you two," Michonne said, deliberately steering the conversation away from the news Daryl had just let slip. 

"You and Merle haven't been exposed. Daryl has. You get in a car with him..." Hershel trailed off. 

"He's already given me fleas," Michonne said with a grin and you snorted. Merle didn't say anything, just pulled off the bandanna and dared anyone to comment with his eyes. 

"I can lead the way," Hershel said with a chuckle. "I know where everything's kept." 

Daryl looked down and licked his lips nervously. "When we're out there, it's always the same. Sooner or later, we run," he said, regarding Hershel steadily. 

The old man sighed a little. "I can draw you a map." 

Daryl nodded at him, eyes offering a silent apology. 

"There are other precautions I feel we should take," Hershel continued. "There's no telling how long it will be before Daryl and his group return. Wouldn't it make sense for us to separate the most vulnerable?" 

He glanced at you as he spoke and you sighed. 

"Yes, we should, and no, I'm not going with them. I've been exposed; I could have it or be a carrier," you said bluntly. He nodded. 

"We can use the administration building. Separate office, separate room." 

"Who is the most vulnerable?" Glenn asked. 

"The very young," Hershel said grimly, and your mind went to Judith. 

"What about the very old?" Glenn added, and you nodded. 

 

You stood with Daryl as he waited for his brother and the others going to gather. Glenn had put himself in quarantine, and Maggie was standing off to the side, looking stressed and forlorn. 

Besides the Dixon brothers and Michonne, Bob and Tyreese had volunteered to go. You weren't happy about Tyreese, and you had warned Daryl in a low voice to keep an eye on him. He had just smirked at you, and you had rolled your eyes. 

Now you stood leaning against his side, his arm around you, as you waited for everyone to drift back from their cell blocks with weapons and gear. He ran his hand absently over your arm as you stood in silence. 

"Be careful out there, Dixon," you whispered. "Please?" 

"Hey," he said, pulling you around to lean against his chest. "It's gonna be ok. It's just walkers out there, and you know Merle and I can handle ourselves. It's you I'm worried about. Don't know what I'll do if ya get sick and I ain't here to take care of you." 

You snorted, tucking your hands up under his vest. "I'll be fine. It's not like I can feel worse than I do now. Being pregnant sucks." 

He ran his hand over your hair once, and settled for soothing circles over your back. 

"You really hate it that much?" he asked softly. "If you really don't- look, you don't have to keep it if-" He broke off and you pulled back to look at his face. 

He glanced away from you, eyes troubled, and you reached up to force his eyes back to yours. 

"Daryl. It's not that I don't want to have a baby with you. It's just that I'm struggling with what it'll mean for me, both now and in the future. This is a dangerous life we lead, and I've gotten by this far by being strong. This- this will weaken me, and I'm terrified for what that might mean," you said seriously. "I don't want to be weak. I don't want to be sidelined. I have to be able to fight for myself, you know?" 

He was smiling at you faintly. "I know. You're a damn tough son of a bitch, woman, and ain't nothin' gonna take that away. But it don't hurt to take a little extra care. I just- I just don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you into nothing." His eyes were so serious as he said the last bit. 

You loved this man so much. 

"You aren't. I knew it was a risk going into it, Dixon. And I would let you know if it was something I couldn't stand. I love the idea of a little mini you running around. I'm just scared," you admitted, and he smiled. 

"I'd rather have a little version of you, but I'm scared too. But look at this place. We've got walls and fences and security here, better'n anything we've seen elsewhere. We can handle it here," he said, and as he talked, you could picture it. 

You could see a little one, with his eyes, running through the fields with Carl watching over him or her and Judith. You could see Merle teaching your kid how to skin an animal while you scowled and fussed over his or her grip on their knife. You could see yourself with an older child, creeping through the woods as you taught them how to use knives and guns and bows against the walkers. 

You could see it, and you felt a swell of love for the baby that you were now pretty damn confident you carried. 

Then the moment shattered with Merle's voice yelling to Daryl to get his ass in gear. You met Daryl's eyes and the two of you chuckled. 

"Be safe. I love you," you said softly, and kissed him. 

"You too, woman." He touched your face for a moment, then was gone. 

 

You watched from the tower as Carol and Rick argued about the water pump. It was obviously blocked again, and something would need to be done about it. Carol glared after Rick in irritation as he walked away, then turned a contemplative look past the fence. 

Great, she was going to try to fix it on her own. Something was up with her, and you needed to find out what it was. 

You really just wanted a nap, but it looks like that wasn't in the cards for now. 

You met her at the gate, just hanging out in a shadow as she moved stealthily toward it. 

"I'm going too," you said simply, and she jumped. You stepped out of the shadows and she looked you over. 

"Fine. Let's go," she said with a shrug. 

Thank God, someone who wasn't going to argue your competence. 

 

As usual, it didn't end well. Carol was determined to finish the job, even as walkers started to pour out of the woods and come off the fences toward you. 

"Carol," you called, dropping the closest ones with your bow. "We need to go." 

"Almost done," she called back, sounding strained, but you didn't have time to look. 

"Carol, come on!" you snapped as you abandoned the bow in favor of your machete in one hand and knife in the other. 

You kicked back at a walker even as you ducked under another, sinking your knife into its temple. You drew back in a smooth motion, turning to the next threat, but a quick scan of the woods showed that it was pretty well pointless. 

"Damn it, Carol! Do you want to die here?" you snarled at her, and then she was at your shoulder. 

"Got it. Let's go," she panted, dropping a couple walkers while you bent and retrieved as many of your arrows as you could. She pulled another few from walkers on the fly as you jogged back toward the gate. She passed them over to you and you scowled at her serene face. 

Rick met you at the gate, looking pissed as hell. "I thought I told you to wait," he snapped at Carol. 

"You aren't in charge anymore, Rick," she said calmly, and Rick flinched back as if slapped. 

You were kinda proud of her, but kind of pissed yourself. 

"I do what needs to be done, Rick," she added, and something finally clicked. 

"Carol," you said seriously as she started to walk off. She paused, hearing something in your tone, but kept her back to you. 

You took a step toward her, and Rick gave you a questioning look. 

"Did you kill Karen and David?" you asked bluntly, and you watched Carol's shoulders tense. She looked back at you for a moment. 

"Yes," she said simply, and walked away.


	10. In Which No One Is Happy

Rick was pissed. You didn't blame him. 

Hell, you were pissed. 

Hershel had taken Carl out beyond the gate to look for some plant Hershel thought would help everyone who was sick. That had been bad enough, to Rick at least, but then Hershel had just.... Gone into the quarantine. With all the sick people. 

He wouldn't let you talk sense into him; he wouldn't listen to your pleas. He wanted to help, and that's what he thought was best for him to do. 

You'd spent a long time with Maggie crying on your shoulder, up in your tower. 

And that wasn't even touching on Carol's new stabbing trend.

Carol had reported to you, tensely, that pretty close to half the prison population was down in quarantine now. She'd taken to shuttling them in and seeing to their needs while you waited for Daryl's people to return. From what she'd told you, it was getting bad in there. People were dying, and you were worried for Glenn and Hershel and Sasha. 

You were worried for the others, too, but Glenn and Hershel were your family, and while you and Sasha had never been close, you respected her. She was fierce and tough and a friend. 

You didn't have any idea what to do about Carol. 

Honestly, you weren't all that bothered by it when you took emotion out of it. She had been protecting the group. She had examined the options, the threat of disease doing exactly what it was doing right now, and had come to a conclusion. 

She was defending her family. You got that. 

But they'd been people. Not walkers, not the dead, just people. People that could have been treated and could have gotten better. 

And she hadn't spoken to the group at all. She'd simply made the decision on her own, and acted it out on her own. 

That shit right there was why your group needed a leader. 

"I know what you're thinking," Rick said, his voice as shaky as his hand as he wrapped a clean bandage around the hand he'd sprained punching out Tyreese. 

"Yeah?" you asked mildly, raising an eyebrow in his direction. You'd offered to help with the hand, but he'd refused, and you'd sat there beside him glowering as you got lost in your own thoughts. He'd cringed his way through cleaning the cuts and now was shaking his way through wrapping it back up, and it all could have been a much more gentle process if he hadn't been such a stubborn bastard. 

"Yeah," he said mildly, securing the bandage and letting out a huff of air. "You're thinking if I had stepped back up and been the leader, Carol wouldn't have killed those people." 

Oh. Well, hot damn, he had know what you were thinking after all. 

Well, that wasn't entirely fair. There'd been more to it than just blame. 

"You're not far off," you admitted. "I was thinking that Carol making a unilateral decision with such permanent consequences is why we need a clear leader. So that sort of thing doesn't happen again." 

He snorted. "That sounds like you're cleanin' it up for my benefit."

You sighed. "Rick, you seem to be under the impression that I'm judging you or that I blame you for things. I don't. We all fucked up. I got ten people killed- my entire group- when I tried to lead. You made a mixed bag of calls. Some people got dead, some people got saved. Shit happens." You shrugged and looked him in the eye. 

"You did a good job, Cowboy. And when you didn't, Daryl and I were there to get you back on track. It can go like that again, but not without you. This group won't ever accept, not really, anyone else as their leader. Not while you're around. We're too conditioned to look to you." 

He looked mutinous and changed the subject. "I'm goin' on a run today. With Carol." 

You nodded. "I'll come with you." 

He looked like he wanted to object and you just held up a hand. "Just stop, Cowboy. I'm coming. Let's go." 

 

The car ride was.... tense, to say the least. 

Carol rode in the passenger seat beside Rick, and you slouched in the back, flipping your knife between your fingers as you stared out the window or at Rick and Carol's set faces. You sighed loudly at one point, hoping to get them to start talking, damn it. 

Rick's eyes flicked to yours in the rear view mirror. You made a gesture toward Carol and he just looked away from you again. 

You sighed again and shoved your knife into its sheath. 

"Maggie wanted to come," Carol said. 

"Someone had to stay back. Watch over things," Rick replied. 

"Someone you trust, you mean," Carol muttered. 

Go girl. Make the man talk to you. You cheered her on privately. 

"They would have drowned in their own blood," she said after another moment of silence.

Oh. Getting right into it then. That's good. You think.

You sat up and leaned in, listening in and not caring if they knew. 

"They were suffering. I made it quick," she continued. "We needed the bodies gone. We needed to stop it from spreading. They were the only ones who were sick." 

You were looking back and forth between her and Rick, and neither of them were looking at each other. Rick said nothing, just staring out the windshield with his jaw twitching. 

"They were a threat. I was trying to save lives," Carol's tone was becoming more annoyed and defensive as Rick remained silent. "I had to try. Somebody had to," she added softly. 

That got Rick's attention, and his eyes met yours again in the mirror. "Maybe," he said softly. 

Carol didn't speak again, and neither did he. 

 

When Rick cruised the car to a stop in a suburban subdivision, you looked around with critical eyes as you slid from the backseat. The other two stepped from the front and went straight to the trunk. They both pulled out empty backpacks and slung them onto their backs. 

You were security and backup, so you were just armed to the teeth, and didn't get a pack of your own. You privately suspected it had more to do with the maybe-baby than anything else. 

You snorted at the car with 'pardon our dust' written on the windows. That was some you-level sass. 

"Think they're coming back?" Carol asked as Rick opened the driver's door. 

"Windshield's clean," you observed, scanning the area as they checked out the inside of the car. "Wiped down."

"Can't have been here more than a day. Maybe two," Rick agreed. 

"This is about Daryl and the others. In case they don't come back," Carol said softly. 

"Until they come back. That's what this is," Rick said, voice harsh.

"Medicine cabinets. First aid kits. Anything that could help Hershel and the others," you added grimly. 

"We get in, we get out," Rick agreed as the three of you moved toward the first house. "And if we can eat it, we take it." 

 

Rick hit the tiny bathroom first, you and Carol standing guard. He emptied the medicine cabinet, but even you could tell there was pitifully little. Carol and Rick headed into the kitchen, but you stayed put at the foot of the stairs. 

You had clear sight lines through the house, from kitchen to living room, up the stairs, and the front door. It was the best place you could be to cover your friends. 

You heard the snarl from the stairs, and looked up to see the walker rounding the corner. Formerly female, hair and pajamas in tatters, looking to eat your face and anything else she could reach- you know, the usual. 

You drew, aimed, fired, but of course the walker chose that moment to trip and tumble headfirst down the damn stairs. 

"YN!" Rick yelled, pulling you back as you cursed. The walker hit the floor and crumpled at your feet, but it was soon snarling and snapping at you. 

You drew your knife with a sigh and plunged it through the walker's temple. "Waist of an arrow," you muttered, irritated. 

Then you heard the sound of a lock from the upstairs. 

"Son of a bitch," you snarled, drawing swiftly even as Rick pulled his gun and cocked it, standing firm at your shoulder. 

"I got your back," he murmured to you, and you felt yourself smiling. 

Cowboy was back in action. 

 

It was a couple, a young looking woman who limped badly and a man with a long nose and a dirty sweatshirt. 

"We have fruit," the woman said hopefully, holding out a peach in each hand. 

"Yeah!" the man said overly eagerly. "We got apricots, peaches. Here, catch." 

He took one of the peaches from the girl and tossed it at Rick. 

All three of you watched it thunk down and bounce off the walker. Rick's face was immobile, but a glance at Carol showed her knife in her hand and her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hair. You snorted a little. 

"Or, you know, don't," the guy said more quietly, chuckling. You laughed a bit at that, and Rick shot you a shut up look. 

"Oh come on, Cowboy. We could drop them at any time," you said, not trying to be quiet. The woman gave you a terrified look, but the man regarded you with that same, slightly frightening smile. 

"They hardly look like a threat. Besides," you added, pulling the arrow off your bow and returning it to your quiver. "They have fruit." 

You picked up the peach from where it had landed right beside the walker's outstretched hand. Before all this, you'd have peeled the fuzzy skin off, but now you just rubbed in on your shirt for a minute and bit right in. 

Oh God. Peach juice exploded over your tongue and you let out a moan. 

"Seriously, Rick. Make them find more. Oh my God this is the best thing I've ever eaten," you mumbled around the next bite, and you heard the man start laughing. 

"Get down here. Slowly," Rick told them coldly, and grabbed your shoulder and pushed you into the kitchen with Carol.

He covered you as the two of them came down the staircase, the woman limping pitifully. The man's shoulder was clearly messed up from the way he held his arm, and you gestured toward it when Rick met your eye. He nodded back, and Carol stepped up to the man to see what was going on. 

"How'd this happen?" she asked. 

"Greenhouse around the corner," he answered. 

His smile really freaked you out. Dude was crazy and you knew it. You just didn't know what his particular flavor of crazy was going to turn out to be. 

"We were looking for a place to crash," the woman added. She hovered over Carol and the man, and you were casually positioned to cover Carol if she needed it. 

"The roof's broken now, and it's been getting rain, so it's full of fruit. We were there about a day when the skin-eaters showed up," she added. 

Skin-eaters. You liked way that sounded. 

The guy was running his mouth about the walkers, so you just tuned out for a minute as you considered them. The dude was clearly not right somehow, but so far seemed harmless. The woman seemed so young to you, and you wondered if it was the air of helplessness about her and the way she limped every time she moved. 

She seemed way too open and friendly to have made it this long. 

Wasn't that a cynical thought?

Carol ended up popping the guy's shoulder back into place as Rick came to lean beside you. You glanced up at him. 

"Everything good, Cowboy?" you whispered. 

"I gotta tell you something," he whispered back. "You ain't going to like it, but you'll have to live with it." 

You raised one eyebrow at him. "Is this one of those 'this ain't a democracy anymore' moments or one of those 'we need to strike a deal with the Governor if we can' moments?" 

He snorted a little as the guy on the table started crying while Carol moved his arm higher and higher above his head. 

"Neither. It's worse. Carol's not comin' back with us. I need you to know that now so you don't try to fight me when it comes time to tell her." 

You just stared at him.


	11. Secrets, Lies, and Near Death Experiences

You grabbed Rick by the elbow and hauled him toward the staircase. Standing over the dead walker, you whirled to face him. 

You were pissed. 

It was about to be a Dixon versus Grimes prize fight, because he was pissed as hell right back. You could read the sheer stubborn intent on his face, and it was something you'd missed dreadfully for a long time. 

You just hadn't expected his first unilateral leadership decision to be one you disagreed with so very wildly. 

"Are you shittin' me, Rick?" you hissed at him. "What the hell do you mean, she's not coming back with us?" 

He crossed his arms and set his jaw. "I mean, I'll be leaving her gas, supplies, food. A gun. But she's not comin' back with us. She's a danger to the community. Judith. Carl. You and your baby." 

"What the fuck," you whispered, pressing your fingers over your eyes. "What the actual, certifiable fuck. Cowboy. This is Carol we're talking about. Carol's- Carol's Carol!" 

You met his eyes, gesturing wildly, and to your dismay, you felt yourself tearing up. 

Goddamn hormones. 

"YN, I found a pregnancy test in that bathroom. Do you really want to have a baby with someone who will take down her own people living next to you?" he hissed back. 

"Ok, first of all: thank you," you said, desperately trying to keep from screaming. "Second of all, she didn't kill her own people. She hasn't done anything to indicate she's a threat to our family. Karen and David were sick. She fucked up, sure, but she was trying to protect our family. She shouldn't just be cast out because of a mistake in judgement." 

"They're all our people! I can't trust her there. And I need you to accept that. Maybe later, when we can all trust each other again, she can come back. But right now, she has to go." Rick was pleading with you, and you were shaking your head over and over. 

"Rick, I- it's Carol!" You whispered, desperately. 

The yelling had stopped from the other room. The two of you looked toward the kitchen, where Carol was handing a gauze pad to the once again smiling man. You glanced back at Rick and he held your eyes. 

"Argue about it later?" You offered, and he nodded. 

You strode back to Carol and the new guys, Rick at your heels. 

"After you left the greenhouse, you came here?" Rick asked, and you knew how tense he was by his voice. 

"Yeah," the guy said. "We thought it was clear. We missed the deadie in the pj's, so we dove into the bathroom." 

"So how long were you up there until we came along?" Rick's suspicious voice was firmly in place. 

You weren't entirely sure what was making him so wary of these guys, when you'd been on countless trips with him and heard more suspect stories than this one. Those people had been met by an open Rick, who wanted to take everyone home, even when you and Daryl and Merle had been dubious. Maybe it was just what he was planning to do later, maybe it was just the stress of taking on leadership so suddenly again. 

Whatever it was, he was making you nervous, and you had your bow in your hands without realizing it, fingers running up and down the bowstring as you watched. 

The girl shrugged. "Like two days," she said cheerfully. 

"There was just one. You had guns," Carol said incredulously. 

"We have about twelve bullets. It usually takes us about five or six to bring one of them down." 

What the- you stared at them, wondering how she could sound so casually cheerful about that. Five or six shots for one walker? 

How were these fools still alive?

"But you have knives...." Carol sounded as incredulous as you felt. 

"To what, stab it in the head?" the man put in. "We got separated from our crew about a week ago. Been trying to play it safe since its just the two of us." 

"I have to with my leg," the girl put in. "We were at a refuge center together, and there was a fire. People were just trampling over me. Sam saved my life." 

Her leg was twisted so her foot was sideways. The story made something in your gut clench, and you felt for the girl, you really did. But how could they still be this helpless? Her injury was all the more reason to learn how to fight well!

"Where are you two headed next?" Rick asked. 

"We just keep moving," the guy- Sam- replied. "We haven't been waiting for places to go bad. Not after the first one." 

"You guys look all right. What's your set up like?" the girl asked. 

For some reason, you really hoped Rick wouldn't tell them about the prison. You hoped he wouldn't invite them to join. Something really skeeved you about these guys. 

No luck. 

"How many of the walkers have you killed?" Rick asked, and you let out a sigh. 

 

Your group split up. Rick had decided to let the new couple in and told them about the outbreak. You weren't happy about either of those things, especially since he was planning on ditching Carol at the last minute, but oh well. 

You'd wanted your leader back, and now here he was. 

The three of you had debated how to finish your sweep, eventually opting to split up and leave the newbies where they were. Then they volunteered to help- at Carol's suggestion- and you had caught Rick's speculative glance. 

Hell no, you were not going to play babysitter. 

He must have understood what your death glare meant because he didn't ask, just made a plan for all of you to meet back at the house you'd parked in front of in two hours. Rick had even given them back their guns- another decision you'd questioned mentally- and given them his own watch. 

You realized that after all your bitching about him being a leader, you were questioning every damn decision the man made. 

For some reason, that amused you.

He'd given you the patented Rick Grimes look and told you to be careful as you split into four groups. You'd rolled your eyes and told him the same. 

 

You cleared the first house with ease. It was empty, walker free, and practically empty of supplies as well. You were nervous about your group being split all to hell. 

Rick and Carol being on their own out there, with other people around? 

Well, you knew what kind of people you could find on the road. 

You and the Dixons had run into your share of people you'd had to steer clear of, put down, or leave out there. If you'd gotten to the point of asking Rick's questions, they were usually already in. 

But there had been a few incidents, and you were wary. You might have been the most reluctant of all of them to let new people join. 

Come to think of it, that might have explained why you didn't really bother trying to learn new people's names. 

House number two was a bit more fruitful, yielding some expired medications, some simple first aid supplies from a kit, and a few cans of assorted things. 

Including, of course, beans. 

You were smiling fondly at a can of baked beans, remembering nights beside fires and in trashed houses like this one, when the walkers came crashing through the glass doors that led from the kitchen to the porch. 

"Holy shit," you muttered as the four of them broke through the door frame, leaving strips of rotting flesh hanging off the glass.

You sprang into action, heaving the can of beans as hard as you could at the first walker. It worked better than you'd expected, punching through the thinning skull of the walker and dropping it instantly. 

You didn't really have time to celebrate, though, as you yanked your knife from the sheath and stepped up to meet the other three. 

It should have been a piece of cake; you against three of the dead. But as had been happening a lot for you lately, you had shit for luck and ended up wrestling one at arm's length while you tried out some of Merle's new profanity. 

It was the last damn one, too, and you were freakin' pissed. 

Carol appeared out of nowhere, her knife plunging in from the base of the neck as she hauled the walker back and away from you. You stood there, breathing hard, and met her concerned gaze. 

"I'm fine!" you snapped. "I got the other three, but my knife got tangled on something. I don't even know what." You sounded disgusted as you bent over and fished your knife from the remains of a walker's head, grasping the handle under the walker's jaw and giving a good hard heave. The knife came out that time, taking about half the thing's jaw with it. 

"Fucker," you muttered, giving the walker a kick. 

Carol just shrugged. "Shit happens," she agreed, but there was something off in her eyes. 

"What is it?" you asked, bluntly. You were so not in the mood for this. Not today. 

"Rick's leaving me here. He hasn't said so yet, but I know what's coming. He packed too much in the way of supplies for us to have just been going on a supply run." 

You sighed, wiping your knife on your sleeve. "Yeah," you said simply, and she nodded. 

"I thought so. Listen, there are things you need to know. No one else will tell you, but-" she cut off with a shrug. 

What the hell was she talking about? 

Carol stepped closer to you. "First, someone has to keep an eye on Lizzy and Mika. I know, I know. I'm not asking you to do it, just to make sure someone does." 

You just grunted at her, making no promises. 

Partly because you weren't really sure who in the hell she was talking about.

"Second. There's a map in my cell, tucked under my mattress. I worked out a few escape routes of my own, ones that don't need the section of fence that's down. Use it." She stopped, and she looked away from you. Guilt was written all over her face. 

"Third," she began, and then stopped again. 

You were getting tired of this game. You had shit to do, and you needed to talk Rick out of leaving her here. 

"Jesus, Carol, what?" you snapped. 

"Third," she said, and her voice was almost impossible to hear. "The Governor's not dead." 

You felt the blood leave your head and the world went black.


	12. So We Lied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! discussion/ memories of past rape/non con; medium detail!!!!!!  
> panic attacks  
> trauma  
> this chapter is generally pretty sucky

Someone was calling your name and shaking you. When you felt the slap across the face, your eyes popped open and you came up swinging. 

"The fuck?" you snarled as Carol grabbed your fist before it could connect with her face. 

"I need you to listen. It's important," she hissed. "He's alive." 

Oh. That's right. 

Carol had killed Karen and David and Rick was planning to outlaw her for it, and she'd just told you the Governor wasn't dead. 

The Governor who had raped you, terrorized Maggie, tried to kill your entire group. The Governor who Daryl had put three crossbow bolts into. The Governor Carl had told you had turned and was waiting for you. 

The Governor Carl had told you he, personally, had stabbed in the head and burned. 

The Governor whose body you had never seen, a small, insidious whisper began in your brain. 

Son of a bitch. 

"Listen to me, now, YN. We don't have a lot of time," Carol said, her eyes locking with yours. 

It was too late. 

You could hear the way your breath was coming fast and shallow, feel the tightness in your lungs and the bar across your throat, but you were gone, gone, gone, because-

\- your face was slamming into a table as a hand like steel forced it down; the sounds of Glenn struggling against a walker and his angry, primal scream when he won, thank God; hands locking your hips in place from behind as the table you were pressed against slammed into your stomach over and over and over; a hand shoving you face down into the table-

\- Maggie's wide eyes, glassy and huge and all dark pupils blown to hell; a hand in your hair, jerking you out of a truck and throwing you against the ground; the dull ache of your rib flaring into screaming agony even as you were hauled back to your toes by your hair; trembling so hard you were breaking into a thousand pieces as you stared into the black hole of a doorway; your face slamming into a table-

-your face slamming into a table; the sound of a zipper being pulled down; Merle's ashamed eyes as he handed you a shirt while you stood there, stripped bare for everyone's eyes; a hand sliding up your thigh and a thumb rubbing your cheek while his laugh echoed in the big truck; the sting and cool drip of blood from the cut on your cheek; your own scream as Merle held your legs and Hershel stitched you up; your face slamming into the table-

-your face slamming into the table-

-your face slamming into the table-

There was something, some high pitched keening sound reaching your ears through the chaos that swirled in your mind and dimly, you wondered if it was you. 

There was no Daryl here now, no strong arms and low, soothing monologue of nonsense to focus on while you tried to breathe; no Rick, face anxious as he crouched in front of you with a hand on your shoulder and worried eyes. No feeling of safety as you got your first clear breath and had Daryl's scent flood your senses and ground you to the here and now. 

There was just Carol, her hard, cold voice cutting through the cacophony of memories and the disorienting pounding of your blood in your veins. 

"You're going to die if you don't get a hold of yourself. There's walkers everywhere, and we don't have a lot of time. You're a damn strong bitch, YN, so take control!" She shook your shoulders as she snapped out the last, and by God, somehow it worked. 

You locked eyes with her, and as she studied your face, she nodded. 

You realized your fists were clenched and you forced them to relax, holding yourself to stillness as you felt the sting of your nails leaving your palms. 

You didn't have to look to know there'd be bloody, half-moon marks on both your palms, and red streaks under your nails.

Carol started speaking again. "He escaped. Sometime in the chaos, he slipped out of his cell and into the lower levels, and he was gone. We looked all over for him, and we were going to tell you- you'd made it clear he was yours and Daryl's to handle, and by God you had the right to know." She shifted uncomfortably then, looking away from you and pressing her lips together. 

"But then Daryl brought you back. He told us a little about what had happened in Woodbury, and you-" She broke off and shook her head. 

"When Carl told us how you had looked, what he had told you and that you'd told him to just handle it; hell, when we got a look at you ourselves- we couldn't do it. We needed you here, with us, setting things up at the prison." 

You scoffed, looking away from her with a sneer. 

She grabbed your arm, and you looked down at her hand on you and then back into her eyes coldly. She let go, but held your gaze. 

"You don't even know how much you did in those early days. To you, it was nothing. It was just what you'd been doing since you hopped out of Daryl's truck and joined us at the fire that first night, just on a larger scale. But we- we had no idea how to make that situation work, YN. We had no idea how to plant crops and organize supply runs and set up rain barrels and clear the fences. We had no idea how to put the new people at ease and integrate them into our lives, our trust. And when Rick started bringing in even more?" She shook her head. 

"We relied on you. Depended on you. So- we lied." 

"You lied," you whispered. 

Silence fell as she nodded. You stared at her, trying desperately to process what she was saying. Finally, you heard yourself speak. One question, the one that wouldn't let you go. 

"How many?" 

She looked at you, blankly. 

That did it. You were on your feet in an explosion of movement, dragging her up to hers and shoving her back into the wall. She reached for her knife when you moved, but you were faster. You had your machete pressed to her throat before she could get her knife up. 

"How many, Carol?" you whispered, and there was something low and deadly and not quite sane in your voice. 

"Everyone," she said calmly. 

You screamed as that word hit your ears, echoing once, twice, three times in your mind. You spun away from her and heaved your machete across the room. It landed with a thunk, embedded deep within the center of one of the cabinet doors. 

You might have been impressed with yourself if you hadn't been so pissed. 

Carol kept talking. "Carl. Maggie. Glenn. Hershel. Myself. Beth. Michonne. Rick." 

You were leaning against the dusty counter, your hands gripping the edge with bruising force and your back to her. 

"Merle? Daryl?" you hissed. 

"No. They wouldn't have- we couldn't tell them." She was trying to reassure you, soothe you, and you felt something, something that had been prepared to break completely, fall back into place inside. 

They hadn't been lying to you. Your husband, your brother-in-law; the two you trusted most to have your back and keep you safe- they hadn't been looking you in the eyes every day and lying to your face. 

But Carl. That cut deep. 

And Rick. Son of a bitch had been refusing to help you all this time; telling you he couldn't make those hard decisions; watching you fall apart time and time again- and all this time, he'd known. 

He'd known where the real threat was, and he didn't even tell you. 

Your whole family, your family that you'd protected and fought with and cried with, and they lied about this. For practically a year. 

 

You were silent as you cleared the next few houses, Carol shadowing you. You were silent as you met up with Rick and the three of you waited for the two new people. 

You were silent as Rick and Carol decided you couldn't wait anymore and the three of you moved out into the road. You were silent as you noticed the tattooed leg one of the walkers was gnawing on with enthusiasm, even as you dropped it with your bow and then wrenched the arrow from its face. 

You walked silently back to the car under Rick's concerned gaze and swung into the passenger seat. You propped one foot on the dash and waited, staring straight ahead. 

You were silent while Rick told Carol she had to leave, and gave her supplies, and heard her cry. 

You were silent as he got into the driver's seat and started the car and pulled away. 

You didn't say a word, but you watched in the mirror as Carol turned and started walking as you drove off. 

 

You were halfway back to the prison when Rick finally broke the silence. 

"Look, I know you're pissed, but I- I couldn't have her there. Not right now. If anyone found out what she did, and that I hadn't done something- there'd be hell to pay. You wanted me to be a leader," he added, and you felt your head do a slow half turn until you were facing him. 

He glanced at you and then back at the road and shrugged. "This is me, leadin'. Making those hard decisions." 

"Stop the car, Rick," you said quietly. 

He looked at you, surprised. "Why-" 

"Stop the damn car!" you screamed, and he did. 

He slammed on the brakes and put the car in park, and you sat there, breathing hard, just staring at him. 

This was your friend, your brother in all but blood, and you knew if you stayed in that car with him for even one more moment, you'd be at his throat. And you weren't exactly sure who would win that fight. 

Hell, right now, you weren't exactly sure who you wanted to. 

You'd overheard Daryl once, eons ago it seemed, on Hershel's farm. He'd had that brash Dixon confidence in his voice as he told Rick he didn't see the two of them trading 'haymakers' on the side of the road. You'd chuckled to yourself as he said he didn't think anyone would win that fight. 

You got it now. Oh, sure, Shane had wiped the floor with you; Merle would have done the same in the arena if it'd been a real fight. You didn't have the best of track records with living men. 

But you'd been through hell and back since then, and you'd learned a few things. You'd been taught a few things, by your Dixon boys- Merle's asshole laugh echoing in your ears as he threw you to the ground, again and again, on a bed of half-rotting leaves. Until he didn't. Until you'd thrown him, and he'd grinned at you in genuine pride. 

Rick had spent most of the last year learning to farm; letting his skills go rusty from disuse. 

You'd spent most of the last year getting better. 

You figured it'd be a pretty even match.


	13. You Fuck Shit Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> references to past abuse  
> cannon typical violence  
> cannon diversion

You shoved open the door and took off down the road. Your hand had been on your knife, and you'd been thinking a little too hard about taking down your friend. 

You heard the car door open and then slam shut behind you as you kept walking. Rick's footsteps echoed as he jogged up to you. Then he grabbed your arm and pulled you around to face him. 

That was a mistake. 

Your knife was in your hand and up in front of you, even as you twisted your arm and broke his hold. 

Rick held his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender, his eyes confused and scared and worried as he looked at you. 

You felt a flicker of guilt. This was Rick. Cowboy, your fearless leader. 

-Take off your shirts, or I'll bring Glenn's hand in here.- The calm, reasonable voice echoed through your mind, and the guilt was gone. 

"YN. Please. She'll be ok. She's strong; I gave her supplies. When things settle down, when we're all feeling more secure and the sickness has stopped- we can bring her back. I want to bring her back," Rick was speaking to you, voice low and urgent. 

You started to laugh, and it didn't sound right in your ears. Your knife dropped to your side as the laughter grew, wildly, and finally you just sheathed it and turned away from him. 

"You think this is about Carol?" You finally asked, when you got yourself under control. "Carol's a tough woman. She can handle herself. This isn't about her," you added coldly, turning back and meeting his eyes. 

"Then what?" he asked, and he looked so confused that you felt that white hot primal flash of rage go through you. 

"You know, Rick! You know!" The words were ripped out of you in a scream, and a flock of birds startled up from the trees on the side of the road. You focused on the sound of their wings flapping to drown out the flood of memories in your head. 

Rick looked down and away from you, shame and guilt written all over his face. You scoffed and shook your head, not saying anything. 

"I'm sorry," he said finally, glancing back up to meet your eyes. "I'm sorry. You're right. I know." 

"Why?" you snarled. 

He shook his head. "Michonne went out lookin' for him. I went lookin' for him. Every run, it was really about him. She went all the way to Macon, never caught the trail. He's either dead, or so far gone it doesn't make a difference." 

You barked out a harsh laugh. "It makes a difference to me," you growled. 

"I know," Rick whispered, and he moved toward you like he was going to touch you. 

You went for your gun this time, training it on him as he went still. "Listen to me very closely, Rick. You're not gonna say another word to me right now. You're going to get back in that car and drive to the prison. I'm gonna walk."

Rick shook his head. "I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It'll be dark soon, and you're pregnant." 

You didn't bat an eye. "Rick Grimes, I swear on everything unholy, if you try to stop me I will put a bullet in your skull right here and now. Walk. Away." 

He looked into your face and he went pale. He nodded, once, and started to back toward the car, hands still raised. "Be careful. And I'm sorry," he whispered, and turned and climbed into the car. 

You kept your gun out, lowered, and watched as he drove away. 

 

The sun went down while you walked. 

You'd found a tree and a supply drop nearby, as you'd known you would, and you'd grabbed a bottle of water and climbed up into the branches before you lost your damn mind again. 

You'd let the memories come, let them flood you with all the awful they held and all had cried and screamed and sobbed it all out to the sky and the walkers that had gathered below. They had moaned and snarled and growled, and when you were finally spent and hoarse your cries sounded too similiar to theirs. 

You felt too close to them as well. Your mind was numb and you felt so hollowed out and raw and empty inside that as you looked at the snapping, rotting jaws and reaching arms, you wondered how easy it would be to join them. 

And then, predictably, you got pissed off. 

So you did something reckless. 

You jumped from the tree branch and hit the ground, rolling with your momentum and springing to your feet. There were six walkers around your tree, and they turned toward you as soon as you hit the ground. 

"Come and get me, you bastards," you'd said, and you'd smiled. 

You'd been washed head to toe in walker guts by the time you'd finished. You'd carved them up, removing hands and jaws first, then feet and legs and heads and guts. When twenty four limbs and six heads had laid beside six torsos, you'd been breathing hard and half-laughing and you'd stared at what you'd done and felt a bit ashamed. 

Their eyes had still been moving, though the heads were removed and they lacked the jaws to bite. You'd ended them, one by one, with your knife to their temples. 

Then you'd started walking. 

 

You weren't really sure where you were going, not at first. 

Anywhere. Nowhere. Just going.

But, as you should have known, your feet led you home. 

You were angry. You were scared. You were devastated that they could all lie to you, about something so important, for so long. 

You didn't have any idea how you were going to deal with all of this. 

But they needed you. They were your family, and these crazy bastards needed you. 

Glenn and Sasha were sick; Hershel was in there with them doing his best to help. Rick had finally stepped the fuck up into leadership again, even if you didn't like his decisions. Carl and Judith and Beth were quarantined with the other kids and elderly, depending on you to keep them safe. Daryl and Merle and Michonne were risking their lives to get the medicine your people needed. Maggie was barely holding it together and now was basically keeping the place running on her own. 

And here you were, throwing tantrums in the forest and risking your life after dark because you were pissed at them. 

Son of a bitch. 

You started to run.


	14. One Hell of a Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence

It was full dark when you approached the prison, bloody and exhausted. You'd almost decided to find one of your tree stands and come back the next morning, after you'd damn near been taken down when one came out of the darkness behind you. You'd been distracted by the three in front and you'd come closer than you wanted to admit to paying the ultimate price for your temper tantrum. 

Like, one second slower and you'd have been walker bait close. 

You were never going to tell Daryl about that one, that's for sure. 

You didn't know what kind of welcome you were expecting to find. Rick was going to be pissed as hell, that's for sure. 

Maybe even not let you in the gates. Which is what you were beginning to worry about as you got closer and the outer gates didn't swing open for you. 

It was the only time you'd ever come home and not found someone there to greet you, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit. 

You'd blame the fatigue and emotional trauma for why you didn't notice it sooner, but when the fence gave way and you heard Carl's panicked shout, you were fairly certain your heart stopped. 

A herd had broken through the fence. 

And there, hauling ass to beat them out of the guard run, were Rick and Carl. 

There was literally no one else in sight. Son of a bitch, what had happened while you were throwing your bitch fit in the woods? Surely not everyone was down and out? 

You were running for the herd from the back, keeping one eye on Rick and Carl as you went. When they cleared the area and got ahead of the walkers, you started breathing again. When Rick grabbed at one of your rolling laundry bins of weapons and tossed a rifle to Carl, you started to smile. 

That crazy bastard was back for real, it seemed. 

They lit up the walkers from the inside as you found your position behind the herd. You started with your bow, wanting to draw as little attention as possible since you were out in the open. They dropped, one after another, and then some of them noticed you. 

The rear end of the herd broke off and moved toward you, and you reluctantly slung your bow up onto your back. You pulled your handgun from your thigh holster and your knife from its sheath at your belt, and planted your feet firmly. 

Then you opened fire as the walkers closed in. 

One, two, three, four- 

How in the hell had anyone survived as long as they had wasting five or six bullets on one walker? You wondered as you worked. 

Five, six, seven, eight- 

Really. And who just relied only on running? Running was important, God knew you knew that, but you also had to be able to take them out on your own, or you'd inevitably find yourself cornered. 

Shit, kind of like now, you thought as the gun just clicked when you pulled the trigger again. 

Out of bullets. On to knife work. 

You lobbed the gun at the nearest walker's head, remembering how well your can of beans trick had worked earlier that day. Sadly, you did not get a repeat performance, since this walker's skull was apparently much thicker. The gun just thunked into it and fell, and the walker jerked and snarled and kept on coming. 

Well, fuck, that was embarrassing. 

You pulled your machete with a sigh, rolling your shoulders a little as you got ready to dance with these rotting freaks. Again. 

Man, you were tired.

Then they were on you, and you were busy. Kick, spin, stab, recover. Grab and toss, stab, recover. Rinse and repeat. 

When killing the undead became routine, you might need to find a new line of work. 

On the other hand, if you were good at what you did, keep it up. 

They went faster than you'd thought possible, and you were busy trying to locate your arrows in the dark- and the gun you'd thrown- when you heard the outer gates creak open. 

You knew it would be Rick, and when you heard him come up behind you you didn't turn. 

"You might want to freeze now," Rick said, and his voice was hard. 

"Seriously, Cowboy? I've got one more arrow I just can't seem to find. Where the hell did it go? It's not like the dead guy would have wandered off with it." You didn't bother to turn or stop what you were doing, and you heard Rick mutter something under his breath. 

"There it is!" you crowed as you yanked your last bolt from one of the walkers' eyes. You turned then, grinning at Rick. 

"What was that again?" you teased. 

He was glaring at you. "I said you're a reckless idiot sometimes, and you almost got yourself killed." 

You wandered a few steps closer to him, your smile fond. "No you didn't. You said I'm a crazy bitch and you ought to just go on and shoot me now. I don't mind. I kinda deserve it today," you admitted with a shrug. 

Rick sighed, and even in the dark you could see his jaw twitch as he set one hand on his belt. He held his gun down at his side, but he hadn't put it away yet. 

You hoped that was because you were outside the gates and there could be more walkers at any moment, and not because he didn't trust you. 

It was probably both. 

The thought sobered your usual sarcasm, and you took another hesitant step toward your friend. 

"Rick, I'm sorry," you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering a little. 

And you were. Suddenly, seeing him, and seeing what could have happened so clearly in your mind, you were so sorry. And so ashamed. 

"No," Rick said, shaking his head, and he was looking at the ground. "No, don't. I- I am. I shouldn't have- we shouldn't have-" 

He broke off, shaking his head again, and finally looked at you, meeting your eyes. He shoved his gun into his holster and closed the distance you'd left between you. 

"We- I- never should have lied to you. I should have told you the truth. You deserved the truth," he said, his voice clear and hard and real. "I'm sorry." 

You felt something catch in your throat, and he reached out a hand to you as you bit back a sob. You flung yourself forward to wrap your arms around him and he staggered back a bit when you collided. Then he held on to you just as tightly, chin on your head. 

"I'm sorry," he said again, his hand digging into your shoulder. 

"I held a gun on you, Rick. I held a gun on you and I would have done it, without another thought. Maybe you were right not to tell me. Maybe-" you broke off and sniffed. 

You really didn't want to cry anymore. 

"I was gonna leave. I was done with all of you. I was gonna wait for Daryl and Merle at one of our safe spots and then we were gonna go. Not that I've even asked them, of course, I just decided they'd go along with my half-assed idea," you continued, resting your head on Rick's shoulder for a minute. 

God, you were so damn tired.

“They’d go in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t blame them. Or you,” Rick said gently. You could hear the guilt in his voice and you wondered how much of what he’d been trying to atone for with his crops had been this one secret. 

You shook your head and let go of him. “No. They won’t, and neither will I. We’re- we’re family, Cowboy. Family fucks up and pisses each other off and makes bad calls. But family has each other’s back. All you’ve ever done is have my back.” 

He kept one hand on your shoulder and dropped his head at that. “Carl’s- well, Carl’s-” 

You grimaced. “Oh God, I bet. Come on, let’s go. And you can fill me in on whatever else has been happening around here. Where the hell is everyone?” 

 

Carl was just as covered in blood and gore as you and Rick were, and he stood well away as you came through the gates with his dad. He didn’t say anything to you, just slid his gaze from yours and went back, head low, to sinking a crowbar through the skulls of the walkers on the ground. 

And goddamn were there a ton of walkers on the ground.

“Jesus, Cowboy,” you whispered as you took in the scene. There were well over a hundred of them on the ground, a river of undead stretching from the main path to the bent and twisted fences. 

And you knew you’d taken on a fair bit of your own. 

These fuckin’ herds were getting insane. 

“Hey, kid-” you said, starting toward Carl, but all three of you jerked as you heard the rumble of an engine. 

Headlights speared the night, and you felt your breath leave you in a rush. 

“Daryl,” you whispered, and suddenly nothing else mattered to you but seeing him again. 

It had been a long fucking day. 

“Ok, Cowboy. Grimes,” you snapped, shooting glaring at both of them. “Neither of you say a goddamn word to them. Daryl will flip righteous shit on both of you, and I have had too long of a day to deal with that. We’re all goin’ to have a little family chat soon enough, but we need to get our people in there taken care of first.” 

You were hissing the words out as the three of you headed to pull open the gates, and you caught both of their nods of agreement before you slid the gate closed behind the returning vehicle. 

It was a different one than what they’d left in, but you were trying really hard not to worry about that, since it wasn’t exactly uncommon for your group. 

Tyreese was out of the car before it had stopped. “Sasha? How’s Sasha?” 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Rick said. 

“Get in there. We got this,” Daryl drawled from the passenger seat, and Tyreese took off. 

Daryl glanced from you to Rick to the walkers everywhere, and you knew he was taking in your blood and gut soaked state. 

Merle climbed out much more slowly, as did Michonne and Bob. 

Daryl just gave you a small smile and ran out into the field to take down the stragglers the car had attracted, that were even now making their way toward the downed fence. Always thinking of what needed to be done, that was your Daryl. 

Merle had less restraint. “Damn, little sister. You threw one hell of a party while we were gone!” 

“Wasn’t just me. Cowboy and the kid here know how to have a good time too,” you teased with a grin, but you could tell it rang a little hollow. 

Luckily, there wasn’t much time for talking. Bob followed Tyreese, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and you wondered what had happened there. You knew all about his drinking, but he’d assured you it would never interfere with any of his responsibilities. 

If that had changed, you and he were going to have some words. 

You might not have known everyone’s names, or hell, even everyone’s faces, but there were few people who could keep secrets from you for long. 

Except your entire group, apparently. 

You gritted your teeth as Michonne and Merle jogged in step toward the fences to see about getting them put back up. Rick and Carl followed, but you took a moment to lean against the gate. 

There was going to be one massive fight coming up when your people were better.


	15. Three Things You So Did Not Want To Talk About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of past abuse and rape/non con

The next morning, all was calm. 

You leaned on the railing of the guard tower, like always, watching the sun come up and dreading what was going to happen today. You saw Rick come out of C block, splash water on his face, and start toward his crops. 

He paused, glancing up at you and then away. Michonne was hauling bodies of walkers into the trailer and Rick paused to speak to her, then Carl came running out of C to join him. 

Kid and Cowboy were both carrying again, and that might have made you smile. Had things been different. 

Had today not been the day your little family might thoroughly break apart. 

Glenn and Sasha and some of the others were set to recover, but it had been bad in there. Like, really bad. Doc S was gone, and a shit ton of other people. Glenn had been a much, much closer call than any of you had liked. 

Just knowing he was snuggled up with Maggie in the cell block, near to where the medicine was so he could be taken care of, made you smile a little. That was a win, for sure. 

You were going to need those wins. 

You heard the door open behind you and your heart sank as Daryl’s arm came around you. Before he could say anything, you turned in his arms and pressed your face to his chest, holding on tightly. 

“Hey, woman. What’s wrong?” he asked, holding on as well. 

You shook your head against him and stayed quiet for a moment, listening to Daryl’s heartbeat, the low groans of the dead already building back up on the newly repaired fence, and the faint sound of Carl’s laughter. You wanted to cling to this, to draw out the moment as long as you could. 

But moments don’t last. 

“Rick found me a test. I took it last night,” you said, chickening out at the last minute and starting with the easiest thing. 

When had having an apocalypse baby become the easiest thing? Just a few days ago it was practically the end of the world. 

Again. 

“Yeah?” Daryl asked, and you loved him even more for keeping his voice neutral. 

“Yeah,” you answered, and pulled back to smile at him. “Congrats, Dad. We’ve got a mini Dixon on the way.” 

He studied you for a moment, and you just shrugged and grinned at him. His smile was slow, but so soft and open, and he threw back his head and you clung to the sound of the laugh only you seemed to get. He swept you back up for a minute and held on tight. 

“Dixon, wait,” you said, hating that you had to break his joy. “There’s more, and it isn’t good.” 

He sobered instantly, and you felt the wary tension that filled his body immediately. 

You sighed and scrubbed your hand over your eyes. “Carol’s gone. No, not dead!” you said hastily, seeing the look in his eyes. You put your hand on his chest and held his eyes through the bangs that half-covered them. 

Damn it, he really needed that haircut. 

“She- Daryl, she-” you shook your head as your eyes welled up. “Goddamn it, I hate these hormones,” you muttered. 

“Just spit it out, woman,” Daryl snarled. 

You got it. Carol was one of his people. She was the only real friend he’d had when you’d joined the group on the road outside of Atlanta. When Carol’s daughter had gone missing, Daryl had damn near killed himself trying to find her. There was a kindred spirit in Carol, in all she’d been through before the walkers even rose, that had bonded the three of you in a way the rest of them couldn’t understand. 

“She killed Karen and David,” you said in a rush. 

“What?” He took a step back from you and started to pace; just tiny steps, one or two in each direction, never straying far from your side. “How- are you sure?” 

You nodded. “I asked her. She told me. And Dixon-” 

His eyes were wild on yours already. This conversation was going to get downright violent for Rick. 

“Rick told her not to come back. He sent her away with food, water, weapons, gas. I don’t- hell, I don’t goddamn agree, but I do understand,” you caught his arm as his gaze snapped out to the field, toward Rick, and he started to stalk to the door. 

“Daryl, stop!” you snapped as he shook your hand off his arm. His eyes flashed to you, and oh boy, was he pissed. 

“Why?” he snarled. “I’ve gotta go beat some sense into Rick!” 

“Because,” you whispered, not looking at him. You wrapped your arms around your waist, holding yourself together as you felt the rising tide of panic in your mind. 

He must have seen something in your face, because he was back at your side, standing a little away from you. He touched your chin with his fingertips and turned your face to look at him. 

You didn’t meet his eyes as he studied your face. You could feel your breathing getting shallow; and you knew you couldn’t have a breakdown right now. 

Not when you were probably the only person in the world who could keep Daryl from killing Rick in the next five minutes. 

-the hand in your hair, slamming you down into a table-

No. You pushed the thought, the memory, away, shoving it into a dark corner of your mind and slamming the door on it. You deliberately shorted out your thoughts, emptying your mind of everything except the blue of Daryl’s eyes, and you drew in a long, deep breath. 

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Daryl asked you, and under the forced gentleness of his voice you heard the edge. The edge he’d had when he’d brought you back from Woodbury and he’d told his brother that he was going to kill him. The edge he’d had when you’d stopped him from putting another bolt in the Governor. 

Shit, this was not going to be good. 

“Daryl. I need you to not kill him,” you whispered. “I need you. And I need him. So you can’t kill him. Promise me.” 

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about, woman?” he snarled, his hand dropping away from your face. He started pacing for real then, a tiger in a cage who could break free at any moment but chose not to. “Kill who?” 

“Just promise me, Daryl; now. Right now,” your voice was stronger now, and you put everything you had into the words. 

“Fine! I promise I won’t kill him!” Daryl snapped, looking completely bewildered as he threw up his hands and stopped so he could face you. “Now what the fuck is goin’ on?” 

His feet were bare, you noticed absently. His feet were bare, and his pants were zipped but not buttoned, the ragged hem too long around his feet and catching on the floor of the balcony with every move he made. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, just tossed his vest on to cover the scars he hated showing the world, and his shaggy hair was lit by the morning sun behind him. 

You grounded yourself with him, with noticing the tiny details to keep your mind blank and smooth and here. The devil tattoo on his arm seemed to shift his wings as Daryl tossed his hands up in the air again at your silence. 

You licked your lips and clenched your fists at your sides, digging your nails into already tattered palms. 

“He’s not dead,” you whispered, and Daryl froze. His back was to you, and you memorized every feather of his tattered wings as you forced yourself to continue. “The Governor. He’s not dead. They- they lied to me. To us. Daryl, they-” 

And your voice broke. 

He spun around in a flash, and looked you over. Your eyes were dry, and you pulled out every trick you’d ever learned to keep yourself calm and in control and right here and now. His eyes bore into you, and you met them steadily, trying to show him that it was ok. You were ok. 

Trying to give him some measure of calm, because if you didn’t-

Well. 

“Tell me,” he growled, and you did.


	16. Dixon vs. Grimes, Coming to A Field Near You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> references to past child abuse

He was gone before you could even react. 

You finished telling him, about the run with Rick and Carol and what Carol had told you, and what Rick had said on the road. Between one breath and the next, he moved, and you didn’t see it happen. 

Fear had you moving just as quickly, and you saw the tattered wings as he ducked out the door at the foot of the tower seconds ahead of you. 

“RICK!” he yelled, and you ran, ran to try to catch him. 

“Daryl! Goddamn it, Dixon, you promise me!” you yelled after him, but you knew you weren’t going to catch him in time. 

Merle came out of his tower at a dead run as Daryl made it to Rick. Rick just stood there, holding one hand out to keep Carl back, and you covered the last few feet as Daryl just launched himself at Rick. 

Then Rick was on the ground and Daryl was on top of him, one hand locked on Rick’s throat as he punched with the other. Carl stared, crying, but not making a sound, and your heart clenched at the look of guilt all over Carl’s face. And Rick didn't move, didn't do a damn thing to defend himself. He just took it, eyes downcast.

“Jesus, little brother!” Merle called as he ran up, grabbing onto Daryl’s hand and trying to pull him off Rick. “What the hell? Calm down!” 

“No!” Daryl snarled at Merle, turning on him, and you finally moved, flinging yourself in between them as Daryl’s fist started toward Merle. 

“Daryl, stop!” you snapped. You stood between him and Merle, and Merle’s arm wrapped around your waist, preparing to pull you out of the way. 

“Little sister,” he said slowly. “I’m thinkin’ now’s not the time for you to be gettin’ in my brother’s path.” 

“Oh shut up, Merle. I’m probably gonna be gettin’ in your path too in a minute,” you snapped at him. “Daryl won’t touch me. If I’d ever worried about that, I wouldn’t have married him. Dixon, seriously, calm the fuck down. Now.” You were staring into your husband’s eyes, watching as he struggled with himself. 

He closed his eyes and breathed in hard, and you felt the trembling in him you were so close. 

“You promised,” you whispered to him now, and his eyes snapped open again. 

“You’re a damn sneaky bitch sometimes, ya know that?” he said, voice hard. You just smiled at him. 

“Yeah. You love it, though.” 

“Yeah. I love you, woman. Thanks,” he grunted, and took a step back. 

“Anybody wanna fill little ol’ Merle in on what the fuck’s goin’ on?” Merle drawled as you stepped away from him. 

“The Governor’s alive, and it’s my fault.” 

Merle whirled toward Carl as you just closed your eyes. 

Goddamn it, now you needed to worry about Merle trying to kill someone. 

“The hell did you just say?” Merle growled at Carl, and Carl shrank back from him. 

“Hey,” Rick snapped, on his feet now and moving to put himself between Merle and Carl. It was the first thing he'd said since Daryl screamed his name. 

Merle turned a disgusted look on Rick. “What? You think I’d beat on your boy just cause I’m pissed?” 

Rick was regarding him steadily. “I think the Dixon clan tends to get a little emotional when it comes to YN,” he flatly.

You agreed on principle, but there was nothing that could have set Merle off more. You took a rapid step forward, intent on putting yourself between him and Rick. 

You were pretty certain Merle wouldn’t hit you either, and you were determined that these men, your men, were not going to kill each other over this. 

He surprised you, though. You thought you knew everything there was to know about him, after all the time the three of you had spent together, and you’d been expecting an explosion like Daryl’s. 

Instead, he went still. Completely, utterly still- something you’d seen in Daryl as well, when he needed control and was really struggling with it. When he feared becoming the monster his father had been. 

Suddenly, you got where he’d learned it. 

“There’s many things in this world I’ve done that I ain’t proud of, Rick Grimes,” Merle said, his voice low and serious. “But I ain’t ever been the man who’d lay hands on a kid, no matter how damn emotional I got over someone. You’d best back the hell off now and let the boy explain himself.” 

You touched Merle’s shoulder gently, and he turned to you. His eyes were hard and his jaw was set in a look you’d never seen before. 

“Merle,” was all you said. Merle’s eyes softened a little and he nodded to you. 

Carl’s voice cut the tension. “I’m sorry. He escaped, while Daryl and Dad and Michonne and YN were in Woodbury. You were busy, Merle, and we wanted to keep it quiet until they got back. Then I saw-” his voice broke and tears were sliding down his cheeks. 

He still wouldn’t look at you, and you ached to throw your arms around him, to get that cheerful smile back. But you were angry too, and you wanted to hear what he had to say. 

Him lying to you was what hurt the most, and you weren’t ready to be over it yet. 

“I saw her. When Daryl brought her back. You saw her too,” he accused, eyes flashing as he met Merle’s. “We all did. She was so fuckin’ broken!” 

“Language, Carl,” Rick muttered automatically, and now no one was looking at you. 

“I know you hate that,” Carl finally spoke to you, gesturing sharply and glaring out at you in challenge. You recognized that look; it was one he’d learned from you. 

Anger was easier than pain or guilt or fear. 

“I know you hate it, but it’s the truth. I couldn’t put it on you! So I lied to you. I told you he was dead and waiting for you. And you told me to just handle it!” He started pacing, and your eyes followed his every move. 

You wondered if he even realized how raw his voice was, or how his movements copied Daryl’s and Rick’s and yours. 

You wondered when this kid had become your kid, and if that was why this hurt so badly.

“I told everyone else. I tried to handle it like you told me too. Michonne was going to find him! He should have bled out from the bolts! It- it should have been fine....” He turned his back to you and his head dropped as his shoulders started to shake. 

It killed you when Carl cried, and you wanted, desperately, to tell him it was ok. To grab him and hold him tight and tell him you understood, and you forgave him. 

But you didn’t. 

“Rick, we need to have a group meeting,” you heard your voice say, and it was cold and harsh. “We need to talk about how we’re gonna handle this.” 

You turned to Daryl and Merle. “Go back to the tower, Dixon. You don’t even have shoes on,” you spoke over him as he scowled and tried to object. “Go, get dressed and grab my gear for me, would you? I feel naked without my bow. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

He looked down at his feet and snarled, then back into your eyes. He asked a question without saying a word and you smiled faintly in response. “I’m fine. Go.” 

He finally nodded and walked away, throwing one last glare at Rick. Rick stayed silent, reaching one hand out and putting it on Carl’s shoulder. Carl stayed facing away from you and you regarded them for another minute before turning to Merle. 

“Merle, go tell everyone we need to talk. Council room will work. And I mean everyone- Beth, Hershel, Glenn, all of them. Everyone was in on this, and we need to clear the air and work it out.” 

Merle nodded once, sharply, and followed in Daryl’s wake. 

You watched, making sure he was gone, and looked up to your tower. You saw Daryl just standing in the middle of the room, head bowed, and you sighed. 

“You ok, Cowboy?” you asked Rick finally, turning to get a good look at him. 

He had a busted lip and a heavy bruise was already forming around one eye. He was staring at the ground while you looked him over, and when he looked up he met your eyes. 

“I’m fine. Should have been worse. I’ve earned it,” he answered quietly. 

You shook your head at him, arms crossed. “No you haven’t. I thought I had it under control, but he’s faster than I thought. He’ll come around, I promise.” 

Rick was shaking his head at you. “He has every right to never trust me again,” he said sadly. 

“Oh come on, Rick-” you started, but then you saw them. 

And then the corner guard tower- Merle’s tower- exploded.


	17. Someone's Been Taking Merle's Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

“Son of a bitch!” You screamed, looking around wildly. 

Rick grabbed you and Carl by the arms and the three of you hauled ass back to the fence. You met Daryl, Merle, and a bunch of the others at the base of your tower, Daryl’s eyes panicked as he tossed you your bow. 

“Rick!” 

The voice came from over the fields and the gate, one you’d thought you would never hear again. Daryl looked over at you immediately, but you were-

Fine? 

Yeah, fine. 

Well, no, not really- you were scared out of your goddamn mind, but it was the eerie calm scared, like you’d been in that room in Woodbury. 

Merle eased closer to you on your left and Daryl was on your right, and Rick and Carl were at your back, and this was your home. Your turf. 

So, yeah. You were fine. 

Awesome. 

There was a semi-circle of vehicles outside the fence that hadn’t been there moments before, a mix of six trucks and- 

Well, fuck. That was a tank. 

You shot a look to Merle, wondering if someone else had used his let’s-go-to-Atlanta-and-get-a-tank plan after all. He caught your eye and flashed you that shit eating grin. 

See, little sister? You could hear him say in your head. It would have worked!

The Governor was on top of the tank. You could feel the others gather around you at the fence, blocking you from his sight and protecting you as you stared at your worst nightmare- literally- in the flesh. 

Where had he found all these people? There were people in the door of every vehicle, people popping out of the tank and peering around its sides. So many people, and they each had guns. 

And of course, they had the goddamn tank, too. 

You glanced to either side of you and noticed more of your own people had trickled out of the cell blocks and down to the inner fence line. You were already wondering about escape routes and back doors, and damn, you really wished you’d had the chance to get that map from under Carol’s pillow. 

You had plans, all carefully laid out and discussed by the group, but you had a feeling they were all about to go to shit. 

That was, after all, the way your luck seemed to work. 

You realized, without a flicker of feeling, that you’d already given up this place in your mind. Man had a fucking tank. There was no way you could beat that. He’d take out the walls and the fences and the towers, and the dead would take over this place you’d worked so hard for. It was just a matter of making sure you all survived the wreckage, and he didn’t. 

“Rick! Come down here. We need to talk,” the Governor called. 

“It’s not up to me!” Rick yelled back. “There’s a council now. They run this place.” 

You turned and gave Rick a completely deadpan look. “Are you shittin’ me?” you whispered to him, and he just shot you a shut the hell up look back. 

“Is Hershel on the council?” 

You whipped back to the fence, blood like ice in your veins and eyes wide. No. No, no, no. 

“What about Michonne?” He continued, and you eased forward through your friends as Hershel and Michonne were pulled, bound, from one of the vehicles. 

“I don’t make decisions anymore!” Rick yelled, eyes wild. 

“I hope to God you have a fuckin’ plan, Cowboy,” you muttered to him, taking everything in. Your family had banded around you, and the Governor hadn’t seen you yet, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. 

Hell, you wouldn’t let it last long. 

“You’re making the decisions today, Rick,” The Governor said, as his people forced Michonne and Hershel to their knees. “Come down here. Let’s... Let’s have that talk.” 

Rick looked over at you and Daryl, clearly torn. You sighed. 

“Ok, here’s the plan. He wants to talk? We talk.”

“What the hell’s this we you’re goin’ on about, woman?” Daryl snarled. You touched his face gently. 

“He’s going to ask for me. As soon as Rick agrees to come down there, he’s going to tell Rick to bring me with him,” you said. 

“How do you know?” Rick asked, looking just as pissed as Daryl. 

You shrugged. “I know how his mind works. When he does, we go. Both of us. Daryl, get the guns and get everyone armed. Get people heading toward the bus. Evacuation protocols; get it started now. The instant this goes south- because it will-” You broke off and looked into the eyes of every person you cared about. 

“As soon as the shit hits the fan, you run. We’ll all meet up later. There is no plan except survive, and make sure as hell he doesn’t.” 

“Little sister, that is the shittiest plan I ever heard in my life,” Merle drawled. “Hell, why don’t we just kill you now and hand your body over to him? Cause that’s what you’re talkin’ about happenin’ here.” 

You growled. “We don’t have time for this. We have to get Hershel and Michonne out of there, safely.” 

“Come on, now, Rick! You better get moving, or I’m going to start losing my patience here,” the Governor’s voice came from the field. 

You made a decision. Before they could stop you, you shoved forward to the front of the group and stood in plain view. 

“Why don’t I come down there instead?” you called, and you saw him twitch. 

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, moving closer on the tank’s hood. “Hey there, darlin’. Why don’t you just invite yourself to the party I’m throwing? Bring Rick with you and get down here.” 

You looked over at Daryl. “Love you, Dixon. Now get your asses in gear and get our people out of here. Rick, come the fuck on.” 

You slid through the gap in the gate and started down the path. 

No one was dying today except him. 

Rick’s footsteps soon joined yours and you glanced at to him as the two of you walked calmly. 

“You with me, Cowboy?” you whispered. 

“I’ve got your back, YN,” he whispered back, and brushed the back of your hand with his.


	18. You Sit on a Throne of Desperate Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of past rape/non con  
> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

“Let them go. Right now.” Rick’s voice was hard but calm as the two of you strode up to the fence. 

You locked eyes with Hershel and then Michonne, and Michonne sent you a small, tight smile. You gave a short nod and turned your attention to him. 

The Governor. 

This close, you should have been a mess. You shouldn’t have been standing, mind clear and calm and focused. 

But you were. 

You were close enough to see that his hand hadn’t healed right from Daryl’s bolt. There was a gross scar, an ugly knot of a thing in the center of his hand. He couldn’t move all of his fingers as he tightened his hands on his gun belt. 

You remembered the sound of that belt hitting the floor, but it didn’t phase you. You were numb. 

So you smiled at him, while staring at his hand. That pissed him off. 

Which was kind of the point. 

“I’ll stay down here. Talk as long as you want,” Rick continued. “But you let ‘em go. YN too.” 

The Governor was staring at you, not Rick, and you gave him a smirk and a little wave. He sneered. 

“You’ve got a tank. You don’t need hostages.” Rick’s voice was pleading, and the Governor finally looked at him. 

“I do,” he said. “This,” he banged on the tank twice with his foot, “is just to show you I’m serious. Not to blast a hole in our new home.” 

So he wanted the prison intact. Good. You could use that, and you hoped Rick would too. 

“You and your people, you have till sundown to get out of here. Or they die,” he added with a nod at Hershel and Michonne. 

Interesting. He really did just want the prison. Well, that wasn’t happening. 

“Doesn’t have to go down this way,” Rick said. 

“I got more people, more firepower. We need this prison. There it is,” the Governor said, gesturing with his scarred hand. 

He’d really hated you staring, hadn’t he. 

“Oh,” he added. “And she stays too.” 

Mistake. Oh, damn, you crazy motherfucker, that was a huge mistake. 

“It’s not about the past. It’s about right now,” he went on, and you didn’t even have to glance at Rick to know his jaw was twitching. 

“There are children here. Some of them are sick. They won’t- they won’t survive,” Rick said, and you glanced at him as his voice broke. 

He wasn’t meeting your eyes, but you could read the guilt all over him. 

“I have a tank! And I’m letting you walk away from here. What else is there to talk about?” You heard the edge in the Governor’s voice, the sharp sound of his anger that he kept under such tight control. 

He was playing these people, you realized suddenly. You looked around at them and saw tired, stressed, worried faces; dirty clothes and skin and gaunt cheeks. 

These were people who’d been out on the road a long time, like your group had. These were people hardened by the things they’d had to do, and they just wanted safety. He’d spun some story about your prison, told them you wouldn’t let them in. Made you the bad guys. 

“I could shoot you all. You’d all shoot back, I know that. But we’ll win and you’ll be dead,” the Governor was speech making again, for Rick’s benefit or his people’s, you didn’t know. “Doesn’t have to be like that. Like I said, it’s your choice. We just want the prison, and her.” 

You were watching some of his people, saw the way their eyes shifted from you to each other when he asked for you again. So, they didn’t know what that was all about then. He hadn’t mentioned you to them. 

Maybe you could work with that. Maybe you could turn these people like you had his Woodbury army. 

It wouldn’t be easy, and you’d have to do it even more quickly than you had then. Which would be quite the feat, since you weren’t being held against him by the hair, with fresh blood on your cheek and the rumors flying around already doing half the work for you. 

You heard the walkers in the silence, and he turned and took them down, wasting two shots on one walker. 

“Aiming problems or firing problems?” 

Oh shit, you had not meant to say that. Oh fuck. Balls. 

Not helpful, YN, you chastised yourself as he turned wildly pissed off eyes on you. 

Rick shot you a look and held up a hand. You just shrugged, keeping your mouth shut for once. 

“Noise will only draw more of them over,” the Governor’s mask had slipped a bit, but not enough, and now he had it firmly in place. “The longer you wait, harder it’ll be for you to get out of here.”

Goddamn it. You needed to find a plan and commit to it. Either antagonize him into revealing who he really was, or appeal to the people around him. But you couldn’t do both, and you were running out of time to do either. Antagonizing him held the risk of getting your people killed because he was angry, but trying to turn this group with only your word against his? Unlikely.

You could only hope the others had taken your advice and started the evacuation already, but you had a sinking feeling that at least some of them wouldn’t be moving unless they had to. 

“We can all live together,” you heard your voice offering. You looked his people in the eyes as you spoke, moving closer to the fence. Rick grabbed your arm, but you patted his hand and stepped away. “There’s enough room for all of us.”

“More than enough,” the Governor agreed, his tone perfectly reasonable. “But I don’t think my family would sleep well knowing that you were under the same roof.” 

“We’d live in different cell blocks,” Rick put in, catching up to your plan. “We’d never have to see each other till we’re all ready.” 

You caught Hershel’s small smile at the two of you, and knew you were on the right path. The safest path for them. 

“It could work,” you said. “You know it could.” 

“It could’ve,” the Governor agreed. “But your man put three arrows into me and left me for dead. It can’t work now. Not after Woodbury.” 

Oh. So that’s how he was playing the game. 

“If I can let go of Woodbury, so can you. Or do you think you were innocent in that? You tortured one of my friends, terrorized another, and raped me,” you said bluntly. 

His people started to stir again, looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes and throwing some uneasy glances his way. 

He scowled at you, but Rick spoke before he could. 

“Look, I’m not sayin’ it’s gonna be easy. Fact is, it’s gonna be a hell of a lot harder than standing here shooting at each other. But I don’t think we have a choice.” 

“We don’t. You do.” His voice was reasonable. 

Fuck it. You opened your mouth, but Rick beat you to it again. 

“We’re not leaving. You try and force us, we’ll fight back.” 

Well, apparently Cowboy was done with diplomacy as well. 

“Like you said, gunshots will just bring more of them out. They’ll take down the fences. Without the fences, this place is worthless.” 

The Governor’s jaw was twitching, and Rick’s voice was that amazing worried-passionate he got when he was desperately trying to turn people to his side. You wanted to stand back and applaud, because this was the man who’d forged your group into something strong. This was the leader you’d been desperate to get back, and even you would have believed him if he said he could make the Governor living under the same roof as you work. 

“Now, we can all live in the prison, or none of us can,” he finished. 

The Governor jumped down off the tank, his careful calm evaporating and the outraged insanity you remembered coming through. 

Shit. You were out of time.


	19. Goodbye, Asshole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pregnancy loss  
> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> major character death  
> mentions of past rape/non con
> 
> gets pretty brutal; I'm sorry; I swear I like these characters

He had Michonne’s sword at Hershel’s throat before you could blink. 

“You!” you called out, pointing out a woman who looked particularly distressed at the turn of events. “You, in the ponytails. Is this what you want? Is this what any of you want?” 

“What we want is what you got,” a new voice drawled, and you barely spared the man in the tank a glance. “Time for you to leave, asshole. But not you, sweetcheeks.” 

“Look, I fought him before,” Rick’s voice was desperate. Your eyes were trained on the Governor now, watching for the sign this was all going to hell. It was coming, and soon, and you hoped to God your people were ready and that you’d all make it out alive. 

But you didn’t think you would. 

“And after, we took in his old friends. YN here, she told the truth. He raped her, attacked us, and we took in his people. They’ve become leaders in what we have here! Now you put down your weapons, walk through those gates...” The passionate throb in Rick’s voice was real and moving, and you saw some of the Governor’s people considering it. They really were. 

“You’ll be one of us,” Rick continued. “We let go of all of it, and nobody dies. Everyone who’s alive right now. Everyone who’s made it this far. We’ve all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back. We’re not too far gone. We get to come back.” 

You saw him moving the blade, little by little, away from Hershel. You saw the way his jaw worked, and you saw Hershel’s smile as he looked at Rick. 

Rick thought he was winning him over. Hershel thought he was winning him over. 

You knew better. 

“I know... we all can change.” 

“Rick!” you screamed, as you saw the look in the Governor’s eyes. 

“Liar,” he whispered, and you were moving, shoving Rick toward the overturned bus in the yard even as he swung. 

There was nothing you could do for Hershel now, and every fiber of your soul cried out for that to be different, for there to be another choice. 

But there wasn’t. 

Maggie screamed from the fence behind you as you shoved Rick away. 

“No!” Rick cried, and then bullets were everywhere as the shooting started. 

 

Your two seconds of warning saved you both, but Rick took one to the leg and you had a graze along your left arm that was definitely going to leave a scar. 

You couldn’t spare a moment to look at the chaos, to see if Michonne was ok and if Hershel could possibly be saved, because you had to keep the two of you alive. 

This group- if any of them survived what was happening now- would need Rick Grimes, at the very least. 

You didn’t know when you’d made the decision, but you knew you were going to kill the Governor, even if it meant you’d die in the process. 

Sorry, Dixon.

 

You heard the tank when it started moving, even over the gunfire strafing the bus you and Rick were crouched behind. 

“How bad?” you screamed to him, popping around the back end of the bus to fire a few wild shots from your handgun. You didn’t shoot very many, because you knew you were going to need every damn bullet you had. 

“Bad enough,” Rick answered, his voice sounding as dead as you felt inside. You dropped to his side, stripping off the loose button up you wore, and wrapped it around his leg, tying it off. He hissed, but nodded thanks. 

“Tank’s comin’,” you said simply, and he closed his eyes for a moment. 

Then the air was filled with the grinding metal sound of the fences being crushed as first the tank and then the cars moved into your fields. 

Son of a bitch. 

 

His people moved in at walk behind the tank, and you and Rick shifted to behind the bus to keep some measure of cover. 

Until suddenly, in true Cowboy fashion, Rick didn’t. 

You saw the Governor at the end of the bus, saw him step out and fire off a shot in front of him, and then Rick was flying through the air to tackle him in a swirl of what-the-fuckery worthy of you. 

They were trading blows, apparently determined to kill each other hand to hand, and had your home not been going up in smoke and gunfire at that very moment, you might have been annoyed but impressed by the sheer... machismo of it all. 

As it was, you were pissed that Rick was blocking your shot. 

“Rick! Goddamn it, disengage so I can blast his ass into next week!” you screamed out, but one of his people heard you. 

The man came at you with a smirk, thinking you were an easy target. 

You got that. Woman, alone. Man with big gun. Obviously he thought he was more dangerous than you. 

You saw the moment he realized what a fatal error that was when your gun swung smoothly, fired, and then went back to aiming at the Governor. The flash of surprise as the bullet hit between his eyes was satisfying, to say the least. 

Rick, of course, hadn’t listened, and was in fact now further away and even more embroiled in their fight. 

Fine, you’d do this the harder way. 

 

The Governor had Rick down and was pounding his face in. What had made that idiot think this was the way to go? For God’s sake, men were ridiculous sometimes. 

You crept closer, keeping low and silent. There wasn’t anything in the way of cover for you to use, but the main tide of battle had moved forward now, into your home. 

You couldn’t spare a thought to worry about your people- Daryl, Merle, Carl, Judith- or you’d be useless and broken. 

There was only the now, and saving Rick while taking out the Governor. 

Your knife was in your hand now, not your gun. You were always better with knife work anyway. 

The dead were coming, out of the woods and through the twisted carcass of the fences that had made your home safe. There was no saving this place. 

But maybe there was saving Rick. 

 

They were both exhausted and bloody, and Rick’s struggles were basically nonexistent as the Governor locked his hands around Rick’s throat. 

You came up behind them and struck, intending for your knife to sink straight into the Governor’s skull from the base of his neck, ending it once and for all. 

Of course, it didn’t work that way. 

Rick gave you away in the widening of his eyes, and the Governor reared back at just the right moment, throwing a wild punch behind him and into your abdomen. 

He packed a lot of power behind that punch, and you went down hard to one knee, collapsing over yourself as you gasped for air through the pain. Sudden tears blurred your eyes, but you drove yourself back to your feet, determined to finish this job. 

The walkers were closer now, and you could see Michonne- thank God, Michonne was alive- coming toward you at a dead run, taking out walkers in her path. 

The Governor was back on Rick, hands around his throat again. 

You moved forward, screaming out as you slammed into him from the side, taking him to the ground and off of your friend. You slashed across his face with your knife as he tried to buck you, and his blood sprayed over your face even as you felt the sudden, aching cramp deep within you. 

You knew. In that moment, you knew. 

You couldn’t stand up properly against the pain of it, your stomach muscles clenching tightly around the contraction that was you losing your baby. 

You stopped hearing the world around you, stopped seeing anything but the one remaining eye, bruised and bloody, of the man who had just destroyed your world, again. 

The man you’d let kill your child. Daryl’s child. 

Because you were stupid and selfish. 

He struggled, getting a fist inside your guard and catching you on your cheek, and your head snapped to the side with the force of it. He used that momentum and rolled the two of you, but you’d been trained for something like this by Daryl and Merle Dixon, and you kicked back using one leg to slide partly out from under him before he could get a grip on you. 

You slammed upward with the other leg, driving your knee into his gut and slashing again with your knife hand as you went. This time he was the one who doubled over, on hands and knees, and there was another spray of blood as you caught him with your blade. 

You scrambled backward and to your feet, not caring about the pain; hell, you barely even noticed it. 

What was the point? 

Your friends had lied to you. Your home was gone. Your baby was gone, and Daryl would hate you when he knew.

You flung yourself back into the fight, straddling the Governor’s back and grabbing a handful of his hair. You forced his head back, much as he’d done to you once upon a time, and you smiled when you saw that part of his lip was sliced off from your last swing. 

“Goodbye, asshole,” you snarled at him, and he barely twitched as you slit his throat.


	20. Getting Drunk Was Not Exactly Your Plan, But Ok

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> low-key suicidal thoughts  
> brief mentions of past rape/non con  
> miscarriage/ pregnancy loss

You watched him bleed out until the walker fell at your feet. 

The world came crashing back in a rush of noise and moving undead bodies and chaos. 

The walker took a bite out of the Governor’s outstretched arm, and that’s when you realized you were surrounded by them. You moved without thinking- because you weren’t thinking right now; not about any of it; you couldn’t- and took the walker down. You slashed it open as the others started turning to look at you and shamble closer. 

You just fell to the ground, rolling yourself in the walker’s guts, pulling its body over you to smear yourself further. You laid there under the body as walkers converged on the freshly dead, and watched as they tore into the Governor’s corpse. 

Good riddance, evil bastard. 

 

The smoke billowed against the sky, thick and greasy black. 

Your home was burning, and you were sitting in a tree watching the smoke and getting quietly drunk. 

You hated being drunk, but hell. If there was ever a time.... 

You took another long drink from the bottle in your hand and tipped your head back against the tree. The smoke kept billowing, and below you the dead shambled by in an endless stream. 

You leaned forward to watch the walkers, leaning out too far and giggling a little as the harness held you in place. 

Yeah, you were more than a little drunk. Why didn’t you do this more often? 

You pulled yourself back in against the tree, groaning as you did. Everything hurt- your face, your arm, the muscles of your abdomen.

Your heart. 

The tears started falling again, and you remembered why you didn’t drink. You were a weepy, angry, petty bitch when you were drunk. 

“Well, it’s not like anyone’s here to give a damn now!” you laughed through the tears, but it didn’t sound amused. 

It sounded crazy. 

And the smoke kept pouring against the sky. 

 

You fell asleep, because you woke up. You woke up to a bright sunrise and a column of white in the distance; to a throbbing headache and blood and guts covering every inch of you. You moaned when you moved, shifting uncomfortably in the tree stand to try to relieve the screaming tension of your muscles. 

Moving just made your head throb. 

“Son of a bitch,” you croaked, and it sounded like you’d drunk glass instead of whiskey the night before. 

The layer of blood and gore on your skin actually cracked as you moved. 

Goddamn, you would have given just about anything to step beneath some hot water. 

Or to just drink some water. 

There was a supply drop a few feet from this stand. It had a full go pack, stocked with protein bars, a few MREs, some other easy to store and carry foods; a canteen of water and some extra bottles; ammunition and a new handgun; and a basic first aid kit. You'd opening it before climbing into the tree, and the only thing you'd taken was the bottle of whiskey.

You could eat, drink, and stitch up your arm. Get moving. You just had to climb out of the tree and go get the damn thing.

Instead you stayed where you were, watching that cloud of white against the sky. 

 

It was gone. Every damn bit of what you’d built was gone. 

Your friends. Your home. Your- your family. 

There was blood on your jeans- well, there was blood motherfuckin’ everywhere, but there was blood between your legs. 

You’d never had a miscarriage before, so you weren’t entirely sure how much blood was too much, but you didn’t think it was at that level yet. You could have found supplies to make the whole thing a little more comfortable in that pack as well. 

But why in hell should you deserve to be comfortable? It was your fault. 

Maybe that’s what this was, you thought idly as you watched the smoke while the sun slowly moved through the sky. Maybe this was you trying to do penance. 

Maybe you were being punished for not wanting the baby in the first place. Maybe that’s why you’d had everything stripped from you- because you hadn’t appreciated what you had. 

“Well I damn well appreciate it now!” you yelled suddenly, and picked up the empty bottle at your feet, heaving it as far toward that smoke as you could. 

Then you drew your knees up to your chest, leaned your face into them, and cried again. 

You weren't sure you'd ever really stopped.

 

They came in little snippets of memory, their laughs and smiles and voices. 

Glenn, anxiously holding out to broken walker fingers as he asked which ring reminded you of Maggie more; the hard blush on his cheeks when you’d caught them fooling around on a run; the way he rolled his eyes when Merle was being an asshole and put him in his place without a care. 

Maggie, her eyes bright and teasing as she pressed you for details after your first night with Daryl; the way she’d beamed as she walked toward Glenn on Hershel’s arm the day they got married; the mischief in her grin when she’d held up a bottle of wine on your first girl’s night with her and Carol and the others. 

Carol, holding out a plate and raising her eyebrows until you took it with a roll of your eyes, mockingly calling her ‘mom’; triumphantly holding out an unopened mascara the morning of your wedding; the way she’d smiled, hard but happy at the same time when you’d presented her with the brass-knuckle knife and told her how you’d almost kept it for yourself. 

Beth’s sweet clear voice, singing around the fire the first night in the prison yard; the way she looked when she fell asleep in the rocking chair Daryl had scrounged up for late nights with Judith; the soft pink flush she got when girl’s nights got a little raunchy and she mumbled about too much information. 

Michonne, ruffling Carl’s hair as she handed him the first comic she’d brought back for him, and her soft smile as he flung his arms around her; the way she loved that damn rainbow cat that no one else seemed to understand; her belly laugh when you’d handed her the second katana you’d found and asked if she could use one in each hand. 

Hershel and his knowing eyes, checking up on you in the cell they’d kept as yours even after you and Daryl had taken over the guard tower permanently, smiling when you’d told him, honestly, that you’d never felt more at peace; the soft proud smile when he’d taken his first steps on the prosthetic leg and hadn’t fallen; the wrinkles and nicks on his competent hands as he’d stitched up one of the kids after they’d taken a dive straight onto the pavement and messed up their knee pretty damn badly.

Rick, Judith on his hip, pointing out where he was going to plant each crop in the field as you just grinned at the enthusiasm in his eyes; the calm, commanding tone as he asked his questions to the first group of people you’d found, determination in his eyes as he told you and Daryl to lower your weapons and just talk; the tears in his eyes as he’d stood at Daryl’s side and clapped him on the shoulder after Merle pronounced you man and wife. 

Merle, flirting with Carol at the outdoor kitchen as you walked up, hand in Daryl’s and people’s voices all calling out greetings to you; his harsh laugh ringing out in the cell block while Daryl scowled at him and called him a moron for some half-thought-out plan he’d come up with; the way his voice went gruff with affection as he called you little sister when you’d reluctantly told him you thought you were pregnant. 

Carl, hugging you tightly, begging you not to go the first time you left on a run after Woodbury came. The panic in his eyes as you and Rick and Daryl slung weapons on your backs, and the brilliant grin and the way he’d run to you when you’d rolled back in a few hours later; his annoyed-amused shout when you'd emptied a bucket of water over his head as he rounded the corner one hot summer day; his head on your shoulder against the guard tower wall where he’d fallen asleep after bitching to you about Rick’s new anti-gun policy for several hours. 

Daryl, sleeping in the sunlight in your tower. Daryl, wrapping his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your hair. Daryl, soaked and dangerous as he shoved you against the wall in the showers late one night, you trying to muffle your laughter when he slipped and fell flat on his back instead of whatever he’d been trying to do. Him scowling at you from under the spray until he, too, started laughing and couldn’t stop, and eventually you’d both just sat against the wall and howled until the water ran cold and you’d made a mad dash back to your tower.

Daryl, scooping you into his arms and laughing when you’d finally taken the test and told him what you’d both already known.

Glenn’s battered and beaten face as the Governor walked you and Maggie into his cell; Glenn pale and sick and trying to be brave for Maggie as he walked off to quarantine.

Maggie, eyes red rimmed and puffy, hands pressed over her mouth as she realized Hershel had followed Glenn in there. 

Carol’s face as she told you the Governor was still alive; the set of her shoulders in the mirror as Rick drove away from her.

Beth looking up at Maggie uncertainly as the Governor asked if Hershel was on the Council.

Michonne being drug out of the truck, hands bound behind her, and forced to her knees with a gun to her head, eyes meeting yours through the fence. 

Hershel, screaming on the floor of the cafeteria as Rick hacked at his bitten leg; Hershel, smiling softly as Michonne’s katana gleamed in the sun in the Governor’s hand.

Rick, looking away from you guiltily, his eye starting to bruise and the bandage still on his hand from the fight with Tyreese as he swiped at the blood from his split lip.

Merle going completely and utterly still in the field; Merle throwing punches at Daryl in an arena and grinning without it ever reaching his eyes.

Carl’s shoulders shaking as he cried, and you didn’t reach out to him. Carl turning away from you and shoving a crowbar through another walker’s eye instead. Carl shaking off your hand angrily before you handed yourself over to the Governor.

Daryl crying into your hair as Hershel stitched you up in that cell. Daryl’s cold, hard eyes as he sunk another bolt into the Governor’s thigh. Daryl snarling at you to get out of his way and let him beat some sense into Rick. 

They were gone, all of them, you knew. You knew. 

So you sat in the damn tree and watched the smoke, and wondered how hard it would be to just die there.


	21. Is It a Dixon Thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> miscarriage/ pregnancy loss

You must have slept again, because the footsteps woke you up, breaking the silence with the crunch of leaves. 

It was noisy and wrong and you didn’t care. Probably just a walker.

No, your treacherous brain noted, the steps were too direct and even for that. Walkers were shamblers, weaving and varying their direction and pace from step to step, often at random. This was someone who knew precisely where they were going and were trying to get there fast. 

You didn’t make a move or even open your eyes. You didn’t care who it was. If they wanted to kill you, they could. If not, then they’d just move along and leave you alone here. 

“Well, hell, little sister, you ain’t lookin’ so good, darlin’.” 

Your eyes flew open, but you didn’t turn. 

It was just a mirage. Just another memory or something that your brain was throwing at you, to try to get you motivated to live. Merle was gone. 

They were all gone. 

“Ok, fine, don’t say hello. What the fuck you think you’re doin’ sittin’ on your ass in that tree when you’ve got all these damn supplies just a few steps away?” 

“Go away,” you whispered, voice barely there. Your lips cracked and your throat ached, rusty from the crying and disuse. 

Merle didn’t say anything else, and your eyes closed again. 

Maybe your brain decided to leave you to die in peace. 

“Jesus, girl,” his voice came again, but it was different now, kind of frantic and panicked and scared. 

Wait, that couldn’t be right. Merle fucking Dixon wasn’t scared of anything. 

“Come on now, darlin’, you’re scarin’ me. Look at me, sugar, please?” he continued, and your eyes came open slowly. 

“YN. Come on. It’s Merle. You gotta- you gotta look at me, honey,” he said again, sounding more and more frantic. 

"Go away," you said again, this time stronger. You curled into yourself, hiding your face as the tears started falling. "Leave me alone! Why are you doing this to me? You're not real! You're gone, everyone's gone but me!" 

"Hey, hey, girl. Aight now, you know it's gonna be a damn pain in my ass to climb up there and haul you back down with only one hand. So maybe spare your ol' Merle some trouble and come down on your own?" 

"Why?" you sobbed into your knees. "You're not real." 

"Maybe I am, maybe I ain't," he said agreeably, and that wasn't right either. 

Merle was never agreeable. 

"So it don't matter much either way to take the chance, now does it, little sister?" 

You curled up tighter as you thought about what he was saying. Your face pressed to your knees, you remembered Daryl talking to you one night while you lay curled around him on the ground. 

 

"I saw Merle, ya know," he'd whispered to your hair. 

"What?" you'd exclaimed, half sitting up. He'd tugged you back down with a snort. 

"Not for real. When I fell on that damn arrow." 

You'd slid your hand up under the edge of his shirt, fingers finding the scar unerringly as you'd shuddered at the memory. "Like, a hallucination?" 

"Yeah. Ain't proud of it," he continued, his fingers playing with the end of your braided hair. "I was half-dead and pretty damn sure I was gonna be all the way 'fore too much longer. Then all the sudden his ugly mug was all up in my face askin' if I'm Rick's bitch. Told him I ain't nobody's bitch." 

You grinned and pulled him closer. "Hope you punched him in the nose, too. That's what I would've done." 

He snorted again, rolling you a little so you lay on your sides, facing each other. "Didn't have to. Some damn fool woman showed up and cussed him out." 

"You hallucinated me?" you asked him with a grin, oddly touched. 

"Yeah," he looked away shyly, then ran his fingers over your face. "Once you'd driven Merle off callin' him an asshole, you looked down at me layin' there and told me if I didn't get my ass up and fight my way back to you, you'd just get yourself killed tryin' to find me."

"Well, that doesn't sound like me at all," you'd muttered, and he'd snorted out a half laugh. 

"Yeah, nothin' like you." 

 

"Is it a Dixon thing?" you said now, your head still on your legs. 

"Well hell, probably, little sister. But whatcha talkin' about this time?" Merle's voice came, still with that edge of fear you'd never heard from him in life. 

"Hallucinating you. Daryl did, now I am. Does it come with the last name? As soon as you're declared a Dixon, Merle becomes your guardian angel?" 

Merle's full-throttle laugh ran out from below you, breaking the silence of the woods. The column of white still poured into the air, but you thought maybe it was smaller now. 

"Baby bro hallucinated me? I'll have to get that story outta you when you get down here," he chuckled, and you finally turned to look. 

There he stood, covered in gore like you. His sword arm thing had a solid chunk taken out of one side, almost like a bite, and he had one of the heavy-duty military grade guns you'd taken from Woodbury slung over one shoulder. That shit-eating grin spread over his face when he saw you looking at him. 

"Hey, little sister," he said gently, and you were unclipping yourself from the stand and throwing yourself out of the tree without a thought. 

You hit the ground hard, of course, but you were scrambling to your feet in an instant. 

And then you stopped and stared some more. "Are you real?" you whispered. "Please- please be real." 

"I'm as real as you are, darlin'," he said seriously, the smile falling off his face and you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes as he stepped toward you. 

You stepped to him as well, one hand out and trembling as you moved toward him. You were desperately afraid that he'd disappear or your fingers would pass right through him, and you knew if that happened you'd put the barrel of your gun in your mouth and eat a bullet. 

Hope was a fickle thing, and you felt it stirring up somewhere deep within you. 

You knew you wouldn't be able to survive if it was gone. 

You took another step forward, eyes on your shaking hand, and Merle stayed still and let you approach. 

Then you were there, right in front of him, and your fingers were a breath away from his shoulder, and- 

He reached out and grabbed your hand. 

That was all it took, and then you were collapsing against him, and your body shook as you sobbed. His arms came around you and he held on tight, and it was different than Daryl, but it was real and good and strong- 

You weren't alone. Merle was alive, and maybe some of the others too. 

"Hey, hey, hey, come on now. Don't break apart on me now, girlie. We got us a long way to go and a lot to do yet. I need ya strong, darlin'," Merle whispered in your ear, and pushed you back a bit to take a long look at you. 

"How much of this mess is yours, and how much is the other guy's?" he asked seriously, and you looked away, ashamed. 

"I-" You broke off and drew in a breath. 

Better get it out in a rush. Can't put it off any longer, and you just prayed he wouldn't hate you when he knew what you'd done. 

"There's a cut on my shoulder. Bullet grazed me. And- and I- Merle, I-" 

So much for getting it out. You started crying again, great hiccuping cries that you'd never heard come out of yourself before. 

It wasn't like when you had a panic attack, or when Dale had died or any of the thousands of other times you'd thought you'd cried harder than you ever had before. It was even worse, and you were really starting to wonder if there was a 'worst it could ever be', or just a succession of horrifyingly awful events that would continue until you finally were dead. 

You backed away from Merle as you cried, even when he tried to pull you into another hug. You didn't deserve to be comforted. You didn't deserve to have found someone. 

Hell, you should have still been in that tree, on your way to being one of the mindless dead. 

"Little sister, if you think I didn't already know you'd lost that baby, you'd be wrong," Merle's voice cut through your sobs, serious but gentle. 

Your eyes snapped to his, and something in his look- 

You shook your head, looking away, arms wrapping around yourself tightly. "I- I'm sorry," you whispered. 

"Why?" he asked. "You got nothin' to be sorry for, darlin'. It's just nature. Big ol' crazy events can do that to ya," he said with a shrug as you stared at him blankly. 

"It wasn't-" You broke off, shaking your head rapidly in denial. "It wasn't the shock. It was my fault." Your voice broke on that, and Merle closed the gap between you in one step. 

He laid his hand on your shoulder and forced you to look him in the eyes. "Come on now, sugar. You know better'n that. Tell me." 

You did, and when Merle's face softened into a look of sadness and pity instead of the blame you'd been expecting, you broke down again. He had his hand on the back of your head, holding you to him as you screamed into his chest, and you clung to his tattered and bloody shirt as you cracked apart.


	22. Option C Sucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> miscarriage/ pregnancy loss  
> brief mention of rape/ non con

"How'd you know?" you asked him, looking over the small crackling fire to meet his eyes reluctantly. 

It was hours later. He'd let you cry yourself out- again- then bullied you into taking care of yourself. He'd marched you to a small stream nearby and washed the worst of the blood off of your skin, and he'd set stitches in your arm while you'd barely even twitched. Then he'd forced you to eat and drink, and had turned his back so you could clean up the rest of the way, and rinse out your jeans. You'd done what he'd told you, moving with the slow deliberation of a robot. 

When you'd been as cleaned and repaired as you could be, he'd started walking, not speaking to you. Just expecting you to come with him.

And you had. 

Hours later, you'd finally started talking again.

He'd told you everything he knew, and it wasn't much. They'd gotten the evacuation started like you'd said, but none of your people had tried to go. Maggie had gone to put Glenn on the bus, but she'd come back looking for Beth, passing Merle in the chaos. He didn't see her again, but he had seen the bus leave. 

Daryl had been pissed, a wild thing Merle had had to hold back from running out into the field when Hershel had died and you and Rick had taken cover. He and Merle had gotten separated somewhere in the fight, but Merle's voice had been proud when he told you about Daryl taking out the tank single-handedly. The last he'd seen his brother, he'd been backed into a corner by the dead, and Merle tried to hide the worry in his voice. 

You heard it anyway. 

Merle had gone through the prison to look for any stragglers as he made his way out the back, but he hadn't found anyone but the dead. He'd fought his way through, working his way around the prison in the woods, just to make sure. He'd been checking the nearby supply drops and tree stands you'd seeded the woods with, hoping to find you and Daryl, or anyone, really. 

His voice was harsh when he told you he'd almost given up when he spotted you. 

"I got eyes, little sister, and you were up in the damn tree above me," he answered, pushing up onto his side. 

You were on watch, sitting with your back against a tree, and he was supposed to be sleeping. You'd felt his eyes on you, though, so you hadn't felt too bad for talking to him. 

He shrugged with one shoulder now. "I saw the blood on your jeans. I got-" he broke off and shifted, looking uncomfortable. 

"I always check you over head to toe when you been away, girlie. Ever since the Governor. Ain't gonna let somethin' like that slide by me again," he muttered, and you felt yourself smiling for the first time that day. 

"Well, well, Merle Dixon," you teased. "You sayin' you've been checking me out for my own good?" 

He snorted and laid back down on his back. "I'd flip ya the bird if I had my other hand," he said, but you could hear the laugh in his voice. 

You turned your attention back to the woods all around you. You'd rigged up some simple traps around your campsite- tripwires and noisemakers to alert you to walkers if they got too close. But still, you were on watch for a reason, so you should actually, you know, watch. 

"Asshole," you called him cheerfully. 

"Crazy bitch," he shot back, and you chuckled. Then you got serious again. 

"Merle?" you whispered. 

"Yeah, sugar?" 

"Will he hate me? For loosing it?" Your voice was barely audible, and you couldn't look at him. 

"Oh, little sister," he said with a heavy sigh. "You two got the biggest complexes I ever did see. He kept askin' me if you'd hate him for knockin' ya up in the first place. I ain't never seen two people so damn focused on each other they cain't see how the other'n's focused on them." He was silent for a moment and you risked a glance his way. He was flat on his back, one leg bent at the knee, his head resting on his whole arm. He was looking up at the sky and not at you as he spoke again.

"No, darlin', he ain't gonna hate you. Not a damn thing you could do to make him hate you, ever." 

 

You moved on the next morning, the two of you working in silence to break down your little camp. Then you were walking again, just moving through the forest aimlessly. 

"Where the hell are we going?" you asked him finally. He just shrugged. 

"Don't know, darlin'. Just lookin' for our people," he answered, and you lapsed into silence. 

 

You stumbled over the herd of walkers. 

The two of you were walking along in companionable, easy silence, watching each others backs, when you stepped into the clearing. 

They were all dead, a herd of around thirty, in a circle on the ground. They were all missing heads or limbs or half their faces, and two of them were armless and jawless, ropes around their necks. 

"What the hell?" Merle muttered, but you just started to laugh. 

You stood there, looking at the carnage, and felt something that might have been happiness bubble up in your chest with the laughter. 

"Samurai," you said finally, and Merle started to laugh as well. 

 

Merle proved to be almost the tracker his brother was, and you followed the herd and Michonne's tracks back to a muddy road. 

Even you could see the footprints then. 

Three pairs of shoes, one set faint; barely there smudges of the ground that had to be Michonne's light steps. The other two were heavier, staggering all over the road, and you worried about what that meant for when you caught up to them. 

But it was Rick's boots. Merle was certain of it. 

And if those were Rick's boots, then it was a pretty good bet the other set were Carl's hiking shoes. 

 

The two of you were grinning at each other, moving swiftly now. The prospect of finding more of your people alive had sparked a fire under you that you'd been afraid was gone. 

Hell, you'd been afraid to let it burn again, even when it tried to flame to life when Merle found you. 

You cleared the little barecue shack, standing with its door wide open and the dead walker on the floor. Merle had stared contemplatively at the motorcycles out from and you had snorted at him in amusement. 

Dixons never changed, it seemed. 

You were close now, both of you could feel it. 

Maybe that's what made you sloppy. 

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" the voice came out of nowhere, and you and Merle were back to back, guns out. 

They blocked the doorway of the shack, filling the space along the wall while you and Merle had been checking shelves and studying the walker. 

You recognized the type immediately, and felt Merle stiffen beside you. 

Hell, if he was worried, this was going to get ugly. 

There were ten of them, all tough looking, dirty, armed, and leering at the two of you. Well, ok- leering at you. 

The ringleader, the one who had spoken, stepped forward out of the mass of them, hands up and empty in a gesture of peace. 

Neither of you were fooled, since the other nine had guns out and knives in their hands. 

"Hold up now, fellas. We should maybe have a chat with them first, don't you think?" the leader said, and you studied him openly.

He had on some ridiculous embroidered western shirt, a sleeveless denim vest, and tattered jeans. He wore cowboy boots a little too much like Rick's and his grey hair and beard were shaggy. But he was relatively clean and looked well fed and strong. 

He was studying back and he smiled when you met his eyes. "Hello there, sweetheart. How you doing this fine morning?" 

You didn't say a word and his smile faded. 

"You know, it's only polite to respond when you're spoken to," he said, and there was a hint of threat in his voice this time. You just sneered at him over your gun. 

"That ain't no way to talk to a lady, asshole," Merle said calmly, and the ringleader turned his attention to Merle as the others stirred angrily. 

"Damn, you're a tough looking son of a bitch," he said, taking in Merle's missing hand, bloodstained clothes, and confident grip on his rifle. "Tell you what, I don't really think me or my boys want to run the risk of messin' with you. So how's about you hand over the rifle, the lady hands over the bow, and we all go on our merry way, yes? Everyone's a winner." 

"I'm claiming the rifle," one of the others sneered, and the ringleader turned his head and shot the guy a nasty look. 

"Nobody asked you, Len. Shut your mouth," he snapped, then turned his attention back to you and Merle. 

"Now then. The way I see it," he continued, turning to pace toward the long counter with the cash register, "we have three options. Option A- we kill you and take your all your stuff. Option 2- you hand over what we've asked for and we walk away friends. Option C- you try anything, we take your stuff, kill the tough guy, and take the lady with us. Now, option C holds a certain appeal, I won't lie-" He broke off to flash you a grin and run a glance down your body. 

"However, it would waste far less energy to have you just hand them over. Somehow, I think the one handed son of a bitch would be a pretty tough kill, and sweetheart- you look pretty damn difficult yourself. All in all, it'll be safest all around if we just keep this as a simple business transaction: your lives for your weapons. Agreed?" 

You glanced at Merle and found him looking at you. You flashed him a tight grin. 

"Whatcha think?" you asked conversationally, and everyone's eyes turned to you as you flipped your gun in your hand a few times. "Are we outgunned and outclassed here?" 

He just snorted at you. "Naw, little sister. I say we should 'em what they're dealin' with." 

The leader's eyes turned dark and he took a step toward you, but the two of you were already in motion. Merle fired once as you threw yourself sideways, into the tiny path you'd spotted in the forest of chairs and other things that had barricaded off half the room. Merle followed at your heels, but you heard his grunt as the men opened fire in return. 

Damn it. 

You were on the other side in a flash, Merle's hand on your back pushing you ahead of him, and the two of you were sprinting full out down the short hallway, through the back door, and into the woods while the ringleader shouted orders at his group. 

You could hear the crunch of leaves and shouts as the men fanned out into the woods and followed you, but you and Merle had a head start- however brief of one- and the two of you knew how to be in the woods. 

You moved swiftly and silently, almost utterly noiseless even over the fallen leaves. You shifted from tree to tree to bush, staying ahead of the spreading group of men. You took the lead, Merle covering your back as you tried to shake them. 

You heard the walkers ahead, easing out to peek behind a tree. You glanced back at Merle, holding up three fingers. 

Three walkers. He nodded, and jerked his chin to the left. 

Go around? 

You started to agree when you heard someone moving like a damn bear through the trees near you. Two of them tramped out into the clearing together, one of them letting out a shout when they saw the walkers. You fired in a flash, dropping the one who'd shouted with an arrow and preparing to take down the next as he turned in your direction, but Merle grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back into the trees. 

You snarled at him and looked back as the other guy screamed as well, turning just in time to catch sight of one of the walkers taking a chunk out of the guy's arm. 

"Come on, girlie," Merle snarled. "The other's'll come runnin'. We can circle back around and pick up those tracks while they're busy with this lot. Screams'll draw more of the dead, too, maybe keep 'em busy." 

You hesitated, but finding Michonne and Rick and Carl was more important than taking out these assholes. Finally you nodded, and you and Merle disappeared into the trees as the man screamed and the dead munched behind you.


	23. And the Way Will Be Marked with Pudding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of miscarriage/ pregnancy loss

You followed the road, knowing Rick would have done that and Michonne would still be following Rick.

You'd lost the group of assholes in the woods; hadn't seen or heard anything in the hours since. The sun was starting to go down, though, and you needed to get somewhere defensible to crash for the night. 

That's when you saw it. You stopped short, and Merle, who'd been walking backward for the last little bit for some asinine reason, walked right into you. 

"The hell, girlie?" he grunted as you started chuckling. 

"We've found them," you said as he turned to look. 

In the middle of the road was an open, massive, and empty can of chocolate pudding. 

 

You and Merle looked at each other for a moment, then you heard a door opening slowly from beside you. 

You spun around, bow up and drawn, and then you just dropped it, right there on the ground, and you were running, leaping up the steps and onto the porch of the house beside you to throw yourself around the person who stood in the open doorway, looking shocked. 

"YN?" Carl whispered as you grabbed him in a tight hug. "YN?" 

His arms came around you slowly, but when they did, he was clinging to you and crying into your shoulder, and you were crying too as you heard Merle chuckling behind you. 

"Well, hey, boy. It's sure good to see you," Merle said, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. 

You heard running steps, and Rick was charging around the corner on the upper level you could see through the open door, and Michonne appeared at the foot of stairs from another room. They stared at you, Rick's face a mess of bruises and cuts and Michonne's eyes wide with shock. 

Then you were laughing and crying at the same time, and Carl was pulling you inside and Merle was closing the door behind you as Rick came shuffling down the stairs to grin at you both. 

"Hey, guys. We're home," you said, and then all five of you were dissolving into gales of laughter. 

 

The showers worked, which was a blessing you'd never expected. Once clean, you'd rummaged through the clothing left by the house's previous occupants and come up with some jeans to replace your gore covered pair and a clean plaid shirt to go over your tank. You'd lost your last one to Rick's leg, which you insisted on taking a look at once you were clean and dressed. 

You and Merle had the basic first aid supplies you'd stashed in the supply drop, and Rick and Carl had been too out of it to think about hitting one of them on their run out. 

To be fair, Rick was three quarters of the way dead, so Carl was mostly just thinking about keeping them alive. 

But still. This was why you'd made the damn plans to begin with. 

"If everyone had just kept their damn wits about them and followed the plans," you were muttering as you swabbed at one of the cuts above Rick's eye. 

"Yeah, yeah," he said, smiling at you while you grumped. "And where the hell have you been?" 

Your hand jerked as you looked away from him. 

"Hey," he said, catching something in your eyes. "Hey, no judgement. I spent most of the past few days asleep on the couch while Carl kept me alive." 

You lowered your eyes and dropped your hands into your lap. "I was sitting in a tree. First I got drunk, then I waited to die. Then Merle found me and I told him to go away because I thought he was a hallucination." 

"Why were you waiting to die?" 

You shrugged. "I thought I'd lost everything. My home, my family, my husband, my baby. Didn't have anything left to live for." 

When Rick's arm wrapped around you, you leaned into his shoulder. "I'm sorry about the baby," he whispered. "We'll find the others, though. If we're alive, they're alive too." 

"You makin' moves on my brother's girl again, Sheriff?" Merle drawled from the doorway. 

You lifted your head from Rick's shoulder as you shot Merle the bird. "Shut up and get in here, idiot. Where'd you get hit?" 

"You're hit?" Michonne's voice came next as she rounded the corner. "When'd you get shot?" 

"Jesus," you muttered. "Hey, kid, get in here too! We need to play catch up!" 

Carl stuck his head into the living room from the kitchen side, holding a bowl of cereal and eating it dry with a spoon. 

"Ok, that's sacrilege," you informed him as he took a big bite, and he just grinned at you as he chewed. 

God, you'd thought you'd never see that smile again. 

The thought wiped the joy from you as you wondered if you'd find anyone else. 

"Rick, I've done what I can for you. You need to rest up for a few days before you go far on that leg, for sure. This place is secure enough, so I'd bet we can make it happen. Merle, where you hit?" You turned stubborn eyes onto his equally stubborn face. 

He didn't speak, just stared at you, and you narrowed your eyes and rose to face him full on. 

"Uh-oh," Carl teased. "Guys, this place won't be secure if you decide to have a Dixon discussion right now." 

Merle cracked first, his lips twitching, just a bit, and soon you were grinning at each other again. 

"Hell, little sister, you've got a one damn fine stare. I surrender," he said, holding up both arms. He'd taken the sword part off his metal casing, securing it to his belt for easy access. 

"Good," you told him. "So, where and how bad?" 

He sighed. "It's just a scratch. Kinda matches yours. Anyone check your stitches, sugar?" 

"Stop tryin' to distract them, asshole, and let me take care of you," you grumbled, but he was already shifting his shirt to the side with an eye roll. 

"Son of a bitch," you snarled, seeing the long wound along the top of his shoulder. A few inches over and it'd have been in his neck and he'd be dead. You met his eyes and he offered you a faint smile. 

"Don't get your panties in a twist, sweetheart. Ol' Merle ain't gonna go down to no assholes like that." 

"I'm thinking somebody ought to start talking about what's been going on," Rick said dryly. "What assholes did you run into?" 

"Story time, kiddos; everybody gather round," you muttered as you dumped the remaining peroxide over Merle's shoulder and he hissed. 

 

Everyone swapped war stories, you and Merle going first. 

Merle had reported what he'd seen as the prison fell, and everyone had grown quiet as they worried about their loved ones. 

Rick and Carl had talked briefly about what they'd seen, about Judith's car seat and the blood, and you'd all cried together, even Merle. The devastation in Carl's face when he spoke about his little sister tore your heart to shreds. 

You'd been the one to hold this kid as he cried the day his sister was born. You'd kept him safe and let him vent as he'd mourned his mother, and assured him that everyone would do whatever was necessary to keep his sister alive. 

Now his sister was dead and you couldn't even comfort him, since after your hug in the doorway, he wouldn't do more than exchange some pleasant banter and a few smiles. He wouldn't look you in the eyes, not really, and he hadn't let you say what needed to be said between you.

The others had cried when you told them about the baby; cheered for you when you told them about killing the Governor and how you'd coated yourself in walker guts to get away from the herd. They'd listened without judgement when you told them how you'd found a tree and gotten drunk.

Michonne told you quietly that she'd gone back to make sure Hershel didn't stay a walker; how the Governor had hacked his head completely off. You'd heard the guilt in her voice over taking him out of the fences in the first place, over her sword being used for his death. 

You'd held her hand tightly and she'd looked at you gratefully. 

She talked about taking the two walkers and heading off on her own, feeling the same despair you had and determined to keep herself closed off so she'd never have to feel it again. She told Carl and Rick, sounding weary and ashamed, that she'd seen their tracks and gone on in the opposite direction. 

Rick had squeezed her hand then, and Carl had leaned into her shoulder, and she'd continued on to talk about freaking out in the herd and taking them all out. 

You'd called her a damn badass, and told her how you probably wouldn't have found their trail if you hadn't stumbled onto the carnage she'd left behind. She'd finished up with following their path and seeing the pudding container, and you'd been howling with laughter as the three of them described her just walking up and knocking on the door. 

You'd had Carl grinning when you told them the pudding was how you'd known you were in the right place too. Then everyone sobered up as you and Merle described the group you'd run into. 

"I took down one of 'em as we got the hell outa there," Merle reported. "Then little sister here took another one, and a third got himself between the teeth of a biter. Best guess, they're down to seven or less. Hopefully they lost our trail and hauled ass in the other direction, or the walkers got 'em all. Ain't seen sign of them since, though." 

Rick nodded. "All right. We'll stay here for a day or two, let everyone get some rest and heal up." 

 

You found Carl upstairs, stretched out over a bed in what was clearly the room of a boy about his age. He had a book in his hands and was reading by the light of a single candle. 

"Jesus, kid, you'll ruin your eyes doin' that," you said, leaning in the doorway. 

He looked up sharply, his eyes sliding away from you as he shrugged mutely. 

You let out a long sigh. "So we need to talk, don't we? Can I come in?" 

He shrugged again, looking everywhere but at you. You took that as an invitation and pulled the door mostly closed behind you, giving the two of you a bit of privacy without compromising your ability to hear if there was any trouble downstairs. You flopped down onto the bed beside Carl and looked at him. 

He was studying the book in his hands intently, but you knew he wasn't seeing a word on the pages. 

"Alright, Grimes, do you think you could maybe actually look at me?" you said after a minute, starting to get annoyed. 

His shoulders jerked when you called him Grimes, and you saw his eyes start to fill. 

Oh, fuck this. There was a more direct method. 

You sat up and pulled him against you. He was stiff at first, trying to hold himself back, but then he melted into your hug. 

"I'm sorry," he said, so quietly you almost didn't catch it. "I never-" he sniffed a little and you tightened your grip on him, resting your chin on the top of his head. 

"It's ok, Grimes," you told him softly. "I get it. There's nothing I wouldn't do to protect you, or your dad, or Merle, or Daryl. There isn't much I wouldn't do for Michonne or Glenn or Maggie or Beth or Carol. I get why you did it. I hate it," you told him honestly as he pulled away from you and dashed a hand across his eyes. "But I get it. And I forgive you for it." 

He hung his head for another minute, then looked up and met your gaze properly for the first time. "I'm still sorry. But I'd do it again. I'd tell you sooner, after you were better, but even with what happened, I'd lie to you again that night." 

You shook your head fondly at him. "Kid, I'd expect nothing less. You've got my back, don't you?" 

"Always," he agreed, and you hugged him again. 

He held on this time, and you laid your cheek on his hair. You glanced up at the door to see Rick standing in it, smiling at the two of you with a few tears running down his own face. You smiled back at him, and he nodded then stepped away.


	24. Love You Too, And Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

The next morning, you heard Carl and Michonne laughing in the dining room as you ducked into the kitchen. Merle was still asleep, in true Merle fashion, but you hadn't felt the need to wake him up. 

You found Rick in the kitchen as well, opening and closing drawers like he was looking for something, but you weren't really sure what. He met your smile with his own as you heard Carl's laugh again. You leaned against the counter and listened, but then your heart clenched as he cut off. 

You heard his footsteps leaving the room rapidly, and Michonne appeared in the doorway. The two of you shared a look over Rick's bowed head. 

"Thank you," he said. "I heard Carl laughing. Almost forgot what that sounded like. I can't be his father and his best friend," he added as he turned away. "He needs you. The two of you." 

Rick looked at each of you, and you gave him a nod. 

"I know that's a lot to throw at you, so if either of you ever need a break..." 

"I'm done taking breaks," Michonne said sharply, and you flashed her a smile. 

"Same here, Cowboy. Besides, when have I ever had a problem with that kid? You know I love him like my own. Hell," you whispered. "I love him more than my own." 

"So what's the plan?" Michonne asked as she held your eyes for a minute. "This place- is it home, or just a stop along the way?" 

"Let's just stay here while we figure it out," Rick started. 

"We'll need more supplies," you put in. Michonne nodded. 

"I'll go out with Carl and get some," she offered. 

You hesitated, eyeing Rick's bruised face. "Take Merle, too. Can't be too careful with that group out there. I'll stay here, babysit Cowboy. Make sure he rests," you added with a stern look. 

Rick started to argue, but one glance at Michonne's stubborn face said she had that one in hand. You ducked out of the kitchen and went to wake up Merle. 

 

"How long do you think you'll be?" Rick asked as your group stood on the porch. 

"Fill a couple bags; shouldn't be too long," Michonne said with a shrug. 

Merle was giving you a look, and you glared right back. 

"I'll be fine, Merle. Keep them safe; haul their bags; be a gentleman," you said, raising your eyebrows with a grin. 

He snorted and Carl laughed. 

"I'll keep Cowboy here off his feet. I'll sit on him if I have to. We'll be fine," you said, touching Carl's shoulder and throwing him a wink. 

"See that ya are, little sister," Merle said, his voice holding an edge. "Be careful. Stay upstairs, gives you an extra edge against the biters and the livin'. We'll be back by noon." 

"Quit bitchin', Merle," you told him, and he glared at you. You stepped over and kissed his cheek gently. "Love you, you asshole." 

"Get out of here, girlie," Merle muttered, blushing scarlet and shifting uncomfortably. 

It was something you'd only said to him a few times, but you knew it was true. He always reacted the same way, but you knew he didn't mind hearing it. 

"You too, Grimes," you turned to Carl, smacking the brim of his hat as he grinned. "Be careful. Follow their lead." 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he muttered, but he gave you a genuine smile as he followed Michonne down the steps. "Love you too, and stuff," he called over his shoulder. 

 

You bullied Rick into letting you doctor him up and got him into a clean shirt, then you left him alone to sulk for a bit. You wandered the downstairs, ignoring Merle's orders to stay on the upper level as much as possible. 

You knew what you were doing, damn it. 

You settled down on the couch with some random murder thriller and your bow at your feet, but you weren't paying attention to it at all. Hell, you hadn't even turned a page. 

Finally you sighed and stood up, taking the book and your bow with you. You headed up the stairs to check on Rick and found him stretched out on the bed in the master bedroom with a book of his own and a bottle of water. You hesitated in the doorway, watching your friend but not wanting to bother him. 

"What's goin' on, YN?" he asked after a minute, looking up at you with a smile. 

You shrugged, wordlessly, and wandered into the room a bit. "Can't settle. I think- I think I just don't want to be alone," you admitted. 

He grinned and gestured to the other side of the bed. "Plenty of room. Come hang out with me. I don't mind." 

You hesitated, though you desperately wanted to take him up on the offer. 

"Merle will ask you if you're making moves on me again," you finally said, climbing up beside him. You leaned against the headboard, drawing your knees up and wrapping your arms loosely around your legs. 

Rick just snorted. "Merle knows better," he said, picking up his book again. After a minute, he reached out and patted your foot, then let go to turn another page. 

 

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, just sitting beside Rick while he read. Finally you realized you hadn't heard a page turn in awhile, and you glanced over to find him asleep, the book laying on his chest. You grinned a little at the sight, knowing it was exactly what he needed. 

You slipped the bow off your back, leaning it against the bed within easy reach, and scooted down yourself. 

It was odd, laying on a bed beside someone who wasn't Daryl. But it wasn't the same at all, just two friends who didn't want to be alone, and you let yourself relax. You were safe enough on the second floor, as Merle had observed, and you knew you were a light sleeper. Anyone or anything trying to break in would wake you up pretty quickly. 

You checked Rick's face one more time, making sure he didn't have a fever or anything, and then you fell asleep. 

 

Voices woke you, and they definitely weren't your friends. 

You slid from the bed instantly and crawled across the floor, rising slowly until you could just barely see out the window. A quick glance showed nothing, and you cursed silently. 

Then you heard the door open and the sounds of people- a lot of people- moving around. 

Son of a bitch, son of a bitch! 

You moved soundlessly across the floor, snatching your bow and your book up. The bow went on your back immediately, and you dropped the book onto the bedside table, where you hoped it would look abandoned. 

You put your hand across Rick's mouth as the voices became clearer and louder. 

"You're a lying coward," a man's voice growled, and Rick's eyes popped open. 

You put a finger to your lips, and he nodded once, scooping up his book and the half-empty bottle of water from the bedside table on his side as he rose to his feet. 

"Don't do this, please," another voice came, and you tilted your head as you listened. 

"What the hell'd you say to me?" 

Fuck. That was the ringleader of the assholes you and Merle had met on the road. 

You widened your eyes at Rick, hoping to convey that message without words. You heard a blow land and someone screaming, and then feet moving coming up the stairs. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit- 

You and Rick backpedaled away from the door, Rick pushing you ahead of him to slide under the bed. He followed, shifting so he was half over you, blocking you with his body. You scowled at him, but couldn't do anything about it, because at that moment, boots and a gun came into view. 

The two of you held yourselves as still as possible, and you kept your breathing controlled. Rick's eyes were wide and wild as they met yours, but you just gave him a small smile. 

You weren't afraid. 

Well, that was a lie. You were fuckin' petrified, but you had to keep it together. There wasn't another option. 

The boots wandered the room a bit, then suddenly the owner of the boots flung himself onto the bed above you. 

Well, shit. That was going to make things interesting. 

"This will be out abode for the evening," the ringleader's voice declared from downstairs. 

Son of a bitch. If Merle walked Carl and Michonne back into this mess? You'd all die.


	25. Caught with His Pants Down- Literally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> implied threat of rape/non con

The man above you started snoring. You and Rick had just agreed by wordless communication to try making a break for it when another pair of boots came striding into the room. 

Fucking hell. 

You froze where you were again as the new guy started yelling at the one asleep. 

"Yo. Comfy?" Asshole #2 asked. 

"You wakin' me up to see if I'm comfortable?" Asshole #1 snarled.

"I wanna lie down," #2 said. 

"Two other bedrooms up here to choose from." 

"Them's kids beds. I want this one." 

For real? These guys really were assholes. A bed's a bed, these days. Any bed is better than the ground.

"It's claimed," Asshole #1 sneered. 

"I didn't hear it. You gonna have to lay claim somewhere else." 

And just like that, Assholes #1 and #2 were fighting. While you and Rick were still under the bed. 

Son of a bitch, your life was really taking a downhill dive these days. 

Then suddenly, one of the assholes was on the ground, staring right into Rick's eyes and yelling at the other to stop. 

Luckily for you, Len- the other asshole, at this point you had no idea which was Asshole #1 and which was Asshole #2- didn't feel inclined to stop. 

The two of you watched, not breathing, as Len choked the other guy until he passed out. Your lungs burned and your throat ached in sympathy, and you saw Rick wince a little too. 

You'd both had first hand experience with what that felt like, and neither of you really wanted a repeat performance. 

"My bed now, jackoff," Len muttered, and flopped back onto the bed above you. 

Ok then. Back to square one, except now you were royally screwed if the asshole on the ground woke up. 

 

You waited some more, until the asshole in the bed was snoring. You could hear someone bouncing a ball downstairs, but you knew you had to move if you wanted to survive. 

Rick had given Carl his gun before they left, but you were still armed. You had your handgun from the supply drop, your knife, and of course your bow. 

You could take these guys. 

Sure. 

You and Rick slid from under the bed, avoiding the dangling foot from the snoring asshole as you heard voices calling 'claimed!' over and over from different rooms of the house. You made it out first, and stayed in a crouch as Rick followed, wincing as he moved. 

You stood, looking down at the sleeping and unconscious men in the room, thinking how easy it would be to take them out. Your hand was on your knife when you heard the ringleader's voice, followed by the sound of the ball bouncing getting louder. 

"Tony, Len, get your asses down here." 

You and Rick made a beeline for the door, both of you backing into the room you already thought of as Carl's as you saw the back of the ringleader's head as he came up the stairs. The ball hit the wall ahead of him as the two of you moved into the nook where the kid's bed was, just trying to stay out of sight. 

Of course, he followed you. You had managed to get Rick behind you this time, pushing him back into the corner as you reached behind you to try to pull your bow. 

There wasn't any time, though, and you had to freeze as the ball bounced off the windows and you felt the guy standing in the doorway. 

Two inches forward and he'd have seen you. 

You didn't even flinch, just held perfectly, totally still- something you'd learned from your Dixons. 

You could see his hand as he caught the ball. 

Then he backed out of the room and you and Rick both let out silent breaths. Rick instantly started trying to open the windows, and you pulled your knife and gripped it tightly in your hand, determined not to be caught that close again. 

Of course, the damn windows wouldn't budge. 

"Claim, claim, claim!" came a loud voice, and you both spun to watch the door. 

"Shut the hell up. I'm tryin' to sleep!" Len shouted back. 

"There's a woman shacking up in here!" A new voice called. 

"Say what?" Len yelled. "She hot?" 

"Don't grab your pecker just yet," another voice chimed in. "She ain't here." 

You and Rick exchanged a long look. He snatched some kind of trophy from a shelf, and the two of you moved toward the door, but ducked back just as two of the assholes headed toward the steps. 

"What the hell are you hollerin' about?" Len called grumpily. 

"Found her shirt. Must have washed it this morning. Smells good." 

You and Rick ducked through the door and into the hall, but the ringleader and Len were turning the corner on the stairs and you ducked back again. 

"Oh, you found a shirt? She could be miles away by now," the ringleader called.

"Why'd she go to all the trouble of washing it if she's just gonna ditch it? She'll be back." 

Yeah, she would. It was Michonne's damn shirt. 

"I call first when she gets here," Len said, and Rick snarled, his eyes on the stairs. You grabbed his arm and shook your head, jaw tight. 

You wanted to kill them too, but you were outnumbered and out gunned for real this time. 

The two of you ducked rapidly through another door as Len came traipsing back up the stairs, Rick swinging the door closed with a soft click. 

Oh, fuck. 

There was an asshole sitting on the toilet, pants down. Rick exploded into action, slamming his trophy into the guy and then wrapping the strap of the guy's gun around his neck. The guy was struggling, and you came in with your knife, prepared to sink it through his eye. 

Rick shook his head at you rapidly, and you paused. 

Rick kept the pressure on the guy until he went limp and lifeless. You raised an eyebrow at your friend. 

What gives, Cowboy? You were asking. 

He shrugged, then snapped his teeth at you, and you had to press your lips together tightly to hold in a laugh. You got it; either the guy was passed out and Rick had spared his life, or he was dead, and if he turned, he might give his rapist friends a bit of a surprise. 

And now Rick had a gun. Sweet. 

You got the bathroom window to open and the two of you scrambled out onto the roof, Rick stopping to grab the guy's jacket on the way. You eased over the gutters, Rick going first to drop to the back porch. You followed, then you were down the steps and hugging the side of the house to stay out of sight of the windows. 

You'd made it around to the front porch, hoping to beat Merle and the others back when the front door opened and the ringleader stepped out, still bouncing that damn ball. 

You really, really hoped you got a chance to punch that guy in the nose at some point. 

You risked a glance up in time to see him, of course, heading to the corner the two of you crouched under. He perched on the railing and started eating something out of a can, whistling between bites. 

Movement on the road caught your eye, and you saw the three of them heading back, looking relaxed and unaware. You and Rick nodded to each other, you sliding your bow off your back and easing an arrow from your quiver, getting ready to take the guy out as noiselessly as possible. 

"Son of a bitch," the ringleader muttered as the sounds of a walker and someone yelling filled the air. He turned and strode inside as gunshots rang out. 

You and Rick were already moving, and you saw Merle hit a crouch, Carl behind him and Michonne at his side. 

He looked relieved when you and Rick came swinging around the porch, and you took off down the road at a dead run. 

 

Well, you hadn't lost everything, but you'd lost enough. Merle, Michonne, and Carl had a decent haul with them; you had your bow and the rest of your weapons; and Rick had even picked up a new jacket and machine gun. 

But you'd lost your supply pack, the one with what remained of your first aid kit, the canteen, some food and some water. Damn it, you were tired of your carefully organized supplies always getting forgotten or left behind. 

You had no idea what the plan was, and you doubted Rick even knew. The five of you were just walking along, following the railroad tracks to try to stay out of the crazy assholes's way. 

"Spray cheese?" Carl offered Michonne, and you smirked as the two of them grinned at each other. 

You walked at Rick's side, and the two of you saw it at the same time. 

"Rick?" you questioned as you moved toward it. The other three were right behind you, and then you were all staring. 

"What do you think?" Michonne asked softly. 

"Let's go," Rick decided instantly. "Let's go." 

The banner stretched over probably a quarter of the train car, hand painted and hanging over a clearly marked map. 

Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive.


	26. Walking Is Boring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of miscarriage/ pregnancy loss  
> mentions of child loss  
> cannon divergence

Yeah, you were just a little sketched out by this whole Terminus thing. 

Maybe it was just the name- because hello? Terminus; terminate us; why were you the only one who noticed that?- but there was something else, too. Something you couldn't put a finger on, not really, but you were wary. 

You'd been following the tracks for several days. It wasn't that you didn't agree with Rick; this was, hands down, the way to go. And God knew you were glad the leadership decisions weren't in your hands. 

You were just tired of getting burned by people. 

Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive. 

Yeah, you'd heard that line a couple times already. You'd delivered that line, or something like it, more than once yourself. You'd meant it, too. 

And look where it had gotten you. 

 

"I think we got about a day's worth of water left," Rick said from your shoulder. "We're lucky it's cooled off a little bit, but...."

You were looking behind you, grinning at Michonne and Carl and not really paying attention. Rick trailed off and turned to look as well. 

The two of them were balancing on the rails of the track you followed, grinning like idiots and moving slowly as they attempted to balance. Merle was walking along between and behind them, bringing up the rear and heckling the two of them indiscriminately. 

"Come on now, Samurai, you gonna let the kid show you up?" He teased Michonne, and Carl scowled at him before giggling. 

"What are you doin'?" Rick asked, trying to hide his amusement. 

"Winning a bet," Carl said with a grin. 

"In your dreams!" Michonne shot back. 

They kept teasing each other, Merle adding in colorful commentary as Carl wobbled. You watched Rick, and they way Rick watched them, and you smiled as he did. 

You'd been following the tracks for around four days already, with no incidents. You'd actually started to, maybe, enjoy yourself. To feel hopeful about finding others. 

After all, if the five of you could start in four different places and all end up together, maybe the rest of your family could too. 

Maybe. 

Those who arrive survive. 

You'd see. 

You and Rick were both physically better. After pushing hard the first day, Merle and Michonne had ganged up on the two of you, forcing you to slow your pace. They'd made the unfortunately reasonable argument that the maps all agreed; it would take the better part of a week to get to Terminus if you were moving at a sustainable pace. 

If you pushed too hard and got yourself hurt worse, it'd take even longer. Plus, you wanted to be strong when you got there- just in case. 

You and Rick had reluctantly agreed, and over the past few days Rick's face had gotten better, his limp had gotten better, and he didn't have that unhealthy shade of grey to his skin. 

Your arm was well on it's way to healed, but Merle's stitches- while effective, and you certainly weren't complaining- were not exactly the most pretty in the world. You were definitely going to add another long scar to your growing collection. 

It didn't bother you all that much; you had several big ones and a lot of small, old shiny ones criss-crossing your body. The small ones were from before the world ended, when you'd thought the way to cope with internal pain was with external pain. The bigger ones, the nastier ones, were from your adventures tangling with the dead. 

There was a particularly gnarly one on your calf that'd come from a close encounter of the un-fun kind with a shard of glass in a window you'd dived out of to escape an extremely determined group of walkers. You'd been lucky it hadn't hit anything major, and Hershel and Dr. S had stitched it neatly and given you instructions to take it easy on the leg, which you'd promptly ignored. So that scar was your own damn fault, really. 

The scars didn't bother you, and you were just glad the arm was healing well. You'd popped the stitches out on your own the night before, pressing gently on the wound to check for infection. Clean, thank God, since it wasn't like you had any medications for that. 

You'd stopped bleeding from other places, too, and that was almost harder. It meant your baby was well and truly gone, and while you were grateful that you had one less thing to worry about now that you were missing your carefully stashed supplies- 

Well, it still hurt. More than you could ever express. 

 

Michonne had taken you aside the first night after you ran from the Claimers (your name, because they'd kept going on and on about claiming things; and you didn't think you should just keep calling them 'the assholes'. There were a lot of assholes around, you needed something more specific.) and spoken to you quietly. You learned she'd had a miscarriage of her own when she was younger, an early days one like yours, and she'd answered some of your anxious questions and held you while you cried. 

She'd also told you a little about the son she'd lost, a three year old boy named Andre. She said she'd told Carl about him while they were scavenging, hoping to get him to open up about losing Judith. It had worked, sort of, she'd said, her face twisting. 

Now you and Rick shared a grin and headed back toward the laughing trio. 

"Looks like this could go on awhile," Rick drawled. "Maybe we could speed it up a bit?" 

"Yeah, you're right," Michonne agreed. "Shouldn't be fooling around. We should probably-- Carl!" She yelled, trying to unbalance him, and you and Merle cracked up   
when all she did was cause herself to fall. 

"I win. Pay up," Carl said smugly. Michonne sighed and pulled two candy bars out of her bag, clearly trying to keep one back so he wouldn't choose it. 

Carl's grin was devilish as he chose the one she hadn't wanted him to. She grumped and fake pouted, but looked touched when Carl split it in half and handed it to her. 

"Come on, we always share," he said with a grin. 

You met Rick's eyes as he just beamed at them. 

"You got a good kid, Cowboy," you told him, glancing at Carl. Carl blushed a little and ducked his head, but you just bumped his shoulder as your group headed down the tracks again. 

 

Rick didn't say anything else about water at that point, and you were grateful. Let your people enjoy a little happiness while you had the chance. 

But you knew it was a concern that wasn't going to just go away, and you and Rick had a wordless exchange while you walked. When you set up camp that night, heating cans over a small fire with sticks, you and Merle exchanged a look of your own. 

Supplies were running low, and you knew the two of you would need to spend some time in the woods, hunting. You were the best person for the job, what with your bow, and Merle would make good backup in case of trouble. You knew Rick would begrudge the time, however, so you shook your head at Merle. You'd talk to Rick about it the next day, not tonight. 

"How hungry are you, scale of one to ten?" He asked Carl with a smile. 

"Fifteen," Carl said instantly. 

"Twenty eight," Michonne chimed in, and you snored. 

"Forty-three," Merle challenged, and all of you laughed. 

"Yeah, well. It's been awhile," Rick agreed, and turned to you. 

You shrugged, knowing you should keep the joking atmosphere going, but you couldn't. "Three," you muttered, because it was true. You just weren't interested in food. 

All four of them gave you long, worried looks, and you rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna go check the snares," you muttered, starting to stand, but Merle waved you back down. 

"Stay put, little sister. I gotta take a leak anyway," he drawled, and you wrinkled your nose at him. 

"Fine. Just don't fuck with any of them while you're out there," you shot back, and he flipped you off as he started away.

"Can I go with you?" Carl chimed in, and Merle gave him his shit eating grin. 

"I don't need company to take a leak, my man," he teased, and Carl flushed but grinned back. "But how else you gonna learn? Come on." 

Rick turned to you and Michonne as they left. "We'll stay another day or two. Get some more rest." 

"Finish healing up?" Michonne questioned. He smiled at her. 

"I'm almost there," he offered, reaching out to brush her shoulder. 

You found yourself smiling as you watched the two of them. You could see what was happening, even if they seemed oblivious so far. 

"I'm pretty well fine. Merle's shoulder's just a day or two behind me. But we were talking about heading out on a hunt tomorrow," you put in, picking up a stick and doodling idly in the dirt. 

"Yeah? Talkin' when?" Rick asked. "Two of you ain't said a word to each other in hours till just now." 

He was grinning at you, knowing how you didn't really need words to communicate with either Dixon anymore. 

You made a face at him. "Same way you and I were talkin' about the water situation out on the tracks this morning, asshat," you fired back. "We need to do something about that, too. What have we got that we can boil water in?" 

Michonne grimaced as Rick dipped his head in a touche gesture. "Not much. Cans, mostly." 

You made a face as well. That would take forever, but that's life. "Fine. Merle and I will head out in the morning, see what we can catch. You guys handle the water?" You looked between them for confirmation, and they both nodded. 

Carl and Merle came back, both looking somber and empty handed. Merle gave a faint shake of his head to you and you nodded. 

You were taking first watch, so you drug yourself reluctantly to your feet. You climbed up into a tree, perching not so far that a fall would injure you, but high enough to give you a better view of the surrounding woods. 

Not much better, but still. Every bit helped out here. 

The others chatted for a few minutes, but soon curled up to sleep. 

Merle lay flat on his back, resting his head on his metal-ended arm. He dropped off instantly, something Daryl told you he'd picked up in the army. Sleep when you could, where you could, because you never knew when you could again. 

It served him well in this world, you thought, looking down at him fondly as he started to snore. 

Michonne curled on her side, using her pack as a pillow. She closed her eyes immediately, but for a while every noise would have them cracking open so she could glance around. 

Carl slept like only a teenage boy could, sprawled on his back, arms and legs everywhere. He used a pack as a pillow as well, and Rick draped his jacket over him before laying down himself. You saw the sorrow on Rick's face as he looked at the gun Carl held loosely in one hand as he slept. 

Rick sat up longer than the other three, staring into the fire as he thought about who knew what. 

Well, you could guess. It was the same thing you often did when your watch was over, and you knew you always thought about what you'd lost. Finally he sighed, and looked up at you, checking in on you before he stretched out. 

You gave him a nod and a smile, and he nodded back and closed his eyes. 

You wondered how much sleep the man really got.


	27. Balancing of the Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

You all were just starting to stir around the little camp when you heard the screams. 

Carl took off first, running toward the sound with his gun drawn already. 

"Shit!" you half yelled, grabbing up your bow and tossing Rick his stolen gun as the four of you scrambled after Carl. 

"Carl, stop! Carl!" Rick was yelling, but he was gone. 

"Get back! Back!" the stranger's voice shouted. 

A man's. 

You hit the clearing side by side with a determined Merle and skidded to a stop, seconds behind Carl. You grabbed Carl by the back of his shirt, pulling him forcibly back and behind you as you watched. 

Ten walkers were closing in on one living man. The five of you could have handled ten easily. You knew it, they knew it. But you saw the rest of them, drawn out of the trees on the other side of the clearing.

You glanced at Merle and then past him to Rick. Carl was trying to get around you to aim his gun and help, but you slapped your hand over the barrel. 

Merle slid past you to wrap an arm around Carl and pulled him back into the woods slowly and silently. Rick and Michonne moved with you, but Carl struggled. 

"We can't help him," Rick hissed to his son, and an instant later, the man's repeated cries for help turned into wordless screams. 

You winced as you saw the walker tear into his face, ripping half his cheek off in one bite. You turned away, but that was worse, since you turned straight into Carl's accusing eyes. 

"We've gotta go," Merle hissed, and you looked back to see one of the walkers had taken an interest in your group. 

You headed back the way you came, none of you speaking as you went back to your camp and broke it down rapidly. You knew what was coming from Carl's pissed off motions- sharp, hard tosses of his arms when he moved to do anything. 

He'd learned some of them from Daryl, some from Rick- like that stubborn set of his jaw and tilt of his head- and some, you could admit it, from you. Like that side-eye glare he shot your way when you reached for one of the packs and he stepped right into your side to shift you away and scoop it up himself. 

You whistled at the group as you heard and saw the herd had followed you through the woods, and it had grown. 

Son of a bitch. 

The five of you took off running, making your way back to the tracks. The walkers were right on your heels, though, and as you tried to loose them, you ran into another group of three, munching on something lying over the tracks. You shot on the fly, dropping one as you closed with them still at a jog. 

Michonne's sword sliced through the second and Merle impaled the third, neither of them pausing in their steps. Rick and Carl didn't even slow, but you paused long enough to yank your arrow out of the one's eye, glancing back at the herd now half-running behind you. 

Goddamn, that group was growing. 

"Let's go!" Rick called to you, and you waved as you sprinted to catch up. 

 

You left the tracks a bit later, still not having spoken about it. Carl's shoulders and jaw still radiated how pissed off he was, but he was following orders, so that was something. 

You'd lost the herd a bit back, after you'd sidetracked into the woods after a passing shape. It had been a pig, loose from someone's farm, and your heart had clenched as you remembered Rick's face as he sacrificed his pigs. 

Your aim hadn't faltered, though, and Merle had helped you haul the thing back and toss it at the oncoming herd. They'd fallen on the pig greedily, and the five of you had lived. 

So it was worth it. 

Now you wondered what had happened to Bessie, the goat. 

You'd never had a chance to get try to make cheese. 

"Thought there'd be some houses down this way," Michonne said, breaking the silence. "Maybe even a store. There's gotta be some food around here somewhere." 

"We could have saved him," Carl said abruptly, and you finally just stopped walking. The others stopped to, and Carl sent mutinous glares around the group. 

You eyed Rick for a moment, but he didn't speak. You let out a sigh. "Kid, we're low on ammo. All of us are hungry. Yeah, we could have taken those ten down. We've handled worse on less. But he wouldn't have made it, and we'd have wasted ammo and energy and risked getting hurt ourselves. Plus there were more coming through the trees, and maybe we could have taken all of them; maybe we couldn't. It wasn't worth it." 

Carl considered, and finally nodded. You let out a quiet breath of relief. Rick just looked pained, as if he regretted the decision he'd made. But all of you started walking again, down the road to nowhere, it seemed. 

"Hey, look," Carl said, nodding ahead of you. 

It was an abandoned vehicle, a big SUV/ truck cross thing, looking way worse for the wear. One door was open, but you couldn't see anyone inside. Michonne broke off from the group of you as you neared it, drawn by the mostly-disintegrated walker on the side of the road. She handled it while Rick and Merle cleared the vehicle. 

Good enough for some cover that night, at least, you decided with a glance at Rick and Merle. 

 

Carl was asleep in the truck. Merle was sacked out in front of the fire, and you lay with your eyes closed, listening in as Rick and Michonne talked quietly nearby. 

"That was one small rabbit," Rick said softly, talking about the one- admittedly tiny- dude you'd managed to find in the woods nearby. 

"It was something," Michonne said. 

"Yeah. I'm grateful. She- she and Daryl made sure my boy ate, no matter what, before the prison. It was hard, but the two of them? They kept us fed. Half the time neither of them would eat, just like she didn't tonight. Merle's shapin' up to be the same way," Rick responded. "I owe them- especially her- so much." 

"She's one of the best. I'm lucky you all took me in," Michonne agreed. 

"Have you noticed that's all we talk about anymore?" Rick asked. "Food. I forgot what this feels like." 

"Me too," Michonne answered. "I hope we're able to forget again soon."

"Yeah, we're close. Just got to make it through another day. If folks there are taking people in, they have to be strong. They have to have a system." 

You were delighted to hear Rick talking about what to expect when you got there. The two of you had had quite a few whispered conversations, much like the one he was having with Michonne now, over last few days. You'd shared your concerns, your suspicions, with him. He trusted your gut, but you just hadn't had enough information to make any real choices. 

"I wonder if the whole thing's legit," Michonne said wearily. 

You heard the branch snap and tensed, but Rick and Michonne shot to their feet, so you chose not to move. 

"We let people in," Rick said, continuing their conversation. 

"We did. So did the Governor," Michonne agreed. 

Well, you couldn't argue with that. 

You heard the two of them settle back down and tried to relax, but your senses were tingling. Something was out there, watching you. You knew it. 

"Yeah. It's always the same, isn't it?" Rick said. "Don't get to know until we know. Maybe this place isn't even there anymore." 

God, wasn't that a depressing thought? 

You heard the gun cock a second before you heard the voice, and you were already moving. 

Too bad it was too late. 

 

"Oh, dearie me," the ringleader's voice came. 

You were on your feet before he finished, looking around wildly as you brought up the bow you'd had one hand wrapped around as you tried to sleep, but then there was a click at your temple and low chuckle from behind you. An arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you back against a hard body. The asshole who'd grabbed you pressed his face to your hair and sniffed deeply as he pressed the gun to your temple.

"You screwed up, asshole," the ringleader continued, and you looked around for your friends. 

Merle was still on his back, someone's gun in his face, and he looked pissed. The ringleader had his gun to Rick's temple, and there was another one behind Michonne, kicking her sword away. 

"Well, hello again, princess," the ringleader said when his eyes fell on you. "Oh, and the one armed son of a bitch! Can't believe I found all three of you together. And with this extra prize, too." 

Please don't see Carl, please don't see Carl, please don't see Carl- 

"Well, today is the day of reckoning, sir. Restitution. A balancing of the whole damn universe. Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year's Eve!" The ringleader was still talking, but you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. 

Some fat bastard was leaning against the vehicle, face pressed to the glass. 

Son of a bitch! 

"Now who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me? Ten Mississippi! Nine Mississippi!" 

You were looking around frantically, meeting each of the other's eyes, but there was nothing, nothing you could do- 

Each of these assholes had a gun to one of your friends, and you were held tight in the grip of someone with wandering hands and some major body odor issues. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck- 

"Eight Mississippi!" 

"Joe!" 

Wait. What? You knew that voice.


	28. No One Messes with Carl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> attempted rape/ non con  
> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

No way, no way, no way, no way- 

You turned wild eyes to Merle, still flat on his back, and his eyes were just as wide as yours. 

It couldn't be. It couldn't- 

But it was. 

He walked out of the darkness, and your heart dropped to the ground at your feet. 

He looked tired, worn, beaten down, and- well, and scared. 

He hadn't noticed you yet, his eyes on Rick and Michonne and his brother, looking just as shocked at seeing them as you were at seeing him. 

You stayed still, not daring to breath, waiting for him to turn and see you. 

And then he did. 

He froze for a half a beat, and something flickered through his face before he slammed a mask back down, all emotion gone from his eyes. He didn't look at you long before turning back to the ringleader- Joe?- and taking another step forward. 

"Hold up," he said, and you heard the edge of fear in his voice. 

"You're stopping me on eight, Daryl," Joe said conversationally. 

"Just hold up," Daryl repeated, and you knew he was stalling for time, trying to figure out a plan. 

"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothin' to talk about. And that one armed bastard and the piece of ass over there took out Ben and Greg, and fed Bill straight to the dead." This time it was the man who'd seen you and Rick under the bed who spoke, and you cursed mentally. 

Daryl flicked his eyes to you and then back to the ringleader, ignoring the one who'd just spoken. 

"The thing about nowadays is we got nothin' but time," Joe said calmly. "Say your piece, Daryl." 

"These people," Daryl started softly. "You're gonna let 'em go. These are good people." 

"Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that," Joe's tone was held sarcastic amusement, but also a hint of impatience. 

Come on, Dixon, whatever you're gonna do, you gotta do it now. 

"I'll of course have to speak for him and all, cause your friend here, well, strangled him a bathroom. Now the other three, they were assholes, but they still didn't deserve to get dead," Joe went on. 

"You want blood. I get it." Daryl shifted a little, moving out of the his ready stance and into something more open. 

What are you thinking, you idiot? 

He dropped his crossbow and held out his hands, not looking in your direction. "Take it from me, man."

Are you fucking kidding me, Dixon? 

Joe just stared at him. "This man killed our friend. That one armed bastard on the ground killed another. The bitch killed a third and set a walker on a fourth. You say they're good people. See, now that right there, is- is a lie. It's a lie!" 

Something about his words meant something to Daryl, because he stepped back and nodded a little, shoulders dropping. The men all around started to shift and smile and grumble, and others came out of the dark to surround Daryl. 

You cried out as they converged on him and you heard the first blows. 

"Teach him, fellas. Teach him all the way!" 

"No!" You started to struggle against the asshole who held you, but he just gripped you tighter. 

"Mmm, honey, I like the way you squirm," he whispered. 

"Damn it, leave him alone!" You screamed, and Joe's attention turned to you. 

"Well, well, ain't you the feisty one?" he said with a grin. His eyes looked from you to where Daryl was fighting back, and doing a damn sight better than you'd hoped. "Oh. Ohhhh.... Hell. He didn't mention he had a girl." 

You said nothing, and Joe just shrugged. 

"Ain't gonna be his girl for much longer, sweetcheeks. You're ours now." 

Mistake. You glanced at Merle and then Rick, and both of them had the same look in their eyes. The one that threatened a slow death at their hands.

Then they made a second mistake. 

The fat bastard wrenched open the door and started to yank Carl out of the vehicle. Carl was struggling as the guy sneered at him. 

"You leave him be!" Rick screamed, and Joe forced him back to his knees as the fat guy pulled Carl back against him, knife to the kid's throat, and licked his ear. 

You felt everything in you freeze up in that moment. 

Oh hell no. Not on your watch. 

"It was me. It was just me," Rick was saying, and the ringleader bent over him. 

"See, now that's right. That's not some damn lie. Well, it was just you who killed Lou, and these other two who killed my other boys. Look, we can settle this. We're reasonable men. First, we're gonna beat Daryl to death." 

The hell he was, you thought grimly. 

"Then we'll have the girls, starting with the feisty one." 

-a hand on the back of your head, shoving you down onto the table; hands on your hips to hold you in place; a slick voice telling you to take off your shirt-

The man holding you laughed and dug his fingers into your hip, shoving his hips forward into your ass suggestively. 

Well, now you were just pissed. 

Then Joe made his fatal mistake. 

"Then the boy," he said. "Then I'm gonna shoot you, and then we'll be square." He started laughing as the fat bastard shoved Carl down. Carl cried out, and you saw the look in Rick's eyes, the animal you'd seen from him a few times before.

People were gonna die tonight.

You struggled against the grip of the man holding you, almost breaking free. He snarled a curse and dropped his gun in order to grab you with his other arm. 

Perfect. 

"Let him go," Rick said softly, his eyes finally leaving where the man and Carl were struggling and meeting yours. You looked back, and you knew what he was thinking. "Let him go!" 

Rick's head slammed back into Joe's face even as Carl screamed and you threw the man holding you to the ground. 

A gun went off and Carl screamed again, but you dived for the dropped gun and rolled across the ground, coming to your feet and taking off for Carl. 

Joe yelled something and you heard the sounds of more punches being thrown, but you couldn't worry about them right now. All you were focused on was Carl, crying and struggling with some fat, disgusting bastard on top of him. 

He picked the wrong fucking kid, the wrong fucking place, and the wrong fucking time. 

You tucked the gun through your belt and yanked your knife from its sheath, launching yourself forward in a flying tackle that slammed right into the bastard and knocked him flat on his back. 

You had rage, but he had size, and he tossed you back pretty easily. You hit the ground hard and felt all the air fly out of you. Screaming came from all around, and you could hear that prick Joe taunting Rick, still running his goddamn mouth. 

The fat bastard was over you now, chuckling and leering, thinking he'd get a two for one. He fumbled with his belt buckle and you bucked beneath him, throwing him just enough to slide out from under him and scramble into a crouch. He was on his feet as well, and the two of you eyed each other while the fight raged behind you. 

Then Joe screamed, and the fat bastard's eyes flicked wide at something behind you, and you made your move. 

You swooped into him, your knife slicing at his neck. You were bathed in blood again as you reversed your swing, grabbing the bastard by the hair to hold him still as your drove the knife through his temple with a yell of your own. 

"Fucking bastard!" you screamed at him, yanking your knife back out and then whirling to see the scene behind you. 

Well holy fucking shit.


	29. Rick Grimes Is A Scary Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> miscarriage/ pregnancy loss

They were all dead. 

Michonne had a gun in her hands and two dead at her feet, and Merle had his foot literally still in the skull of another of Joe's men. He's curb stomped a guy to death. 

Ew. 

Carl was on his feet, his knife in his own hand, looking at you like you'd just done something either completely magical or completely horrifying, and he was trying to decide which. 

Daryl was bloodied and half bent over, leaning on the hood of the vehicle and trying to catch his breath, and Rick-

Well, Rick stood over the body of Joe, blood all over his shirt, his throat, and his goddamn mouth. 

"Shit, Cowboy," you whispered, finally looking down at Joe's body. 

Dude was missing part of his throat. 

No, really, it was missing. Like someone had taken a bite out of- 

Your eyes shot back to Rick, going so wide you practically felt your eyebrows disappear into your hair. 

"You're a fuckin' animal, Rick Grimes." Your voice was a low growling mix of amusement, fear, and fierce pride, and Rick just gave you a nod. 

"Thank you for him," he said as he started walking. You handed him your knife as he passed you, and he took it without a word. 

You didn't turn around as Michonne reached for Carl and pulled him close while Carl stared beyond you as the sound of a knife going into flesh came over and over and over. 

 

Daryl moved first, straightening from where he leaned on the hood. 

"YN?" he whispered, and you turned to him slowly, heart pounding in your ears. 

He was staring like he didn't think you were real; like maybe you would disappear at any moment if he even blinked. 

You felt the ache rising in your lungs as your eyes filled. 

"Like I told you," Merle drawled, stepping toward you both. "Never seen two people with such damn complexes. You're both real. Now get over there, baby brother, and give your woman a hug. She damn well needs it." Daryl's eyes had moved to his brother reluctantly when Merle started talking, and Merle gestured in your direction with the gun he held in his hand. 

You wrapped your arms around your waist as the tears started falling down your cheeks. Daryl turned slowly back toward you, taking a step forward and then stopping, that wondering, afraid look back in his eyes. He hesitated a moment longer, and you hunched in on yourself as you closed your eyes. 

Then suddenly his arms were around you and he was crushing you to his chest, and you could feel him shaking just as badly as you were.

He pressed his face to your hair and he was crying, too, mumbling something over and over that you couldn't hear because you were crying too hard, half wailing and half screaming into him as you sobbed. 

 

It didn't take long before he was pulling back, cradling your face in his hands and trying to get you to look at him. 

You kept letting your gaze slide away, but he moved with you and finally you gave up. When you met his eyes, there was something desperate in his, and he gently pushed back your hair from your face. He leaned his forehead against yours and let out a shaky breath. 

"You were gone," he whispered. "I knew ya were gone." 

You choked out a bitter laugh. "I knew the same about you," you whispered back. "Daryl, I-" 

"Shut up, woman," he growled, and then he kissed you. 

He kissed you hard and hungry and possessive and desperate, lips crashing into yours as he pulled you into him again. Your arms went around him even as you told yourself not to hold on, not to get attached, because as soon as he knew what you'd done he wouldn't want you any more. 

He wouldn't look at you like you were his whole world; wouldn't cling to you like he needed you in his arms to feel alive; wouldn't kiss you like you were air to a drowning man.

You couldn't stand the thought that you'd see hate in his eyes soon; disappointment and grief and rejection when you told him. It was coming, and now that he was holding you, you were even more certain you wouldn't survive losing him like you were about to. 

But right now he was touching your face and pulling you close to him with an arm around your waist, his lips pressed to yours telling a story more strongly than words could of how he'd missed you, how he loved you, how he'd thought he'd lost you. 

The two of you had always spoken better in this language than with words. 

And you drank him in like water in a desert, clinging to his shoulders and pressing as much of you into his arms as you could. One hand came up and threaded into his hair, and you were kissing him back and trying to tell him you loved him and you were sorry and- 

There were tears streaming down your face as he pulled back from the kiss, but leaned his forehead to yours again. 

"Jesus, woman, I thought- I thought- Oh fuckin' hell- Goddamn, I love ya," he was whispering, and you started crying harder, letting go of him and trying to take a step back, but he wouldn't let you. 

"What is it? What's wrong? YN?" He asked, fingers stroking your cheek as you closed your eyes and shook your head. 

"Little brother," Merle's voice came, and Daryl didn't let you go, but he turned a little toward the sound of his brother's voice. You blocked out Merle as he spoke, low and rapid, filling Daryl in. You tried not to listen, but you heard snippets, including the words 'gone' and 'baby' and 'sorry, brother'; then 'Governor' and 'guilt' and 'blame'.

You felt the moment he understood what was going on. He seemed to shrink, his shoulders dropping as he slumped in grief, and you started to pull away. 

This was it. This was where you lost him forever. 

 

He didn't let you go. You tried to step away, to make it easy for him, but he held you- tighter? 

He pulled you in even closer, his face pressed into your neck and shoulder, and you could feel him crying again, but he didn't say anything. His arms just locked around you, holding you to him as he shook, his hands rubbing circles on your back. 

You realized you were shaking too. 

You didn't understand. 

He was going to- 

You'd been sure he would hate you. 

But as he pulled back and took your face in his hands again, his lips moving even as he cried, you didn't understand what he was saying. 

"It's not your fault, darlin'. It's not. I'm so sorry, woman. I'm sorry I wasn't there. But it's not your fault; you didn't do nothin' wrong. Listen to me, woman, I mean it," he was saying, looking in your eyes, and-

He meant it. He really- he- 

"Wh- what?" you heard your own voice, as if from a distance, as he wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. His eyes never left yours as he smiled softly through the tears. 

"It ain't your fault, YN. You hear me? It ain't. And I don't blame you, or hate you, or nothin'. Ain't anything you could ever do to make that happen. I love ya, ya idiot woman. I love you."


	30. They Had A Code

Morning happened while you dealt with the aftermath. Daryl and Merle had shoved you down to sit beside the truck and then forced Rick down beside you. Michonne had, by wordless agreement, taken Carl into the truck to try to get some sleep. 

Kid was pretty traumatized. He hadn't really looked properly at either you or Rick. 

Then the Dixons had taken care of the bodies, Daryl stripping shirts and other things from them and blocking the windows of the truck so Carl and Michonne could get some rest; Merle plunging his sword arm through everyone who hadn't already taken a blade to the head. 

The two of them had hauled all the bodies into the woods while you and Rick had just... Sat. 

Daryl strode up, bottle of water in hand, and yanked his ever-present bandanna from his back pocket. He dumped some of the water on it, and Rick finally stirred. 

"You should save that to drink." 

Daryl snorted. "You two can't see yourselves. He can." He jerked his head in the direction of the truck, and you turned to take a good look at Rick. 

"Son of a bitch, Cowboy," you whispered, seeing him in the light. There was blood everywhere. In his beard, on his neck, staining his shirt and his lips and his teeth. 

Dude looked rough.

He made a sound that was almost a chuckle, taking the bandanna from Daryl. "You should see you." 

You could imagine. It was the second time in far too few days that you'd slit someone's throat. You knew you were a grimy, gory mess the same as Rick. 

"You look good as a redhead, Cowboy," you shot back, and he made a face at you. 

Daryl huffed and pulled another rag- someone's former shirt or something, no doubt- out of his other pocket, wetting it before he dropped to the ground to sit between the two of you. He gestured to you impatiently when you moved to take the rag from him, and you smiled slightly as he took your chin in his hand and started cleaning you up himself. 

"I didn't know what they were," he said softly, his voice a growl. You heard the shame in it, and so did Rick, his eyes meeting yours over Daryl's shoulder. 

"How'd you wind up with them?" Rick asked, wiping ineffectively at his mouth. 

Daryl's hands stilled and dropped from your face. He looked down and away, and a shadow moved over what you could see of him. 

"I was with Beth," he answered after a moment. Your heart jumped, thrilled that the girl had survived, but then you caught Daryl's tone. 

No.

"We got out together," he continued. "I was with her for awhile." 

He stopped speaking then, just looking out at the woods. He twisted the rag in his hands and you reached over and laid one of yours on top of his. 

"Is she dead?" you asked gently. He glanced at you, and you saw the pain in his eyes; even through the redness and swelling around one of them. 

"She's just gone," he answered.

You really wanted to know what the damn hell that meant, but he went back to working on your face. You couldn't bring yourself to push him right then, seeing the stark guilt and worry and anguish that was written all over him. 

"After that, that's when they found me," he continued. "That's as good as it's gonna get for now, woman," he said, turning your face this way and that with his hand on your chin. 

You touched his cheek, your fingers slipping lightly over the cuts and scrapes all over his face. He gave you a sad smile and turned to Rick. 

"I mean, I knew they were bad, but- they had a code. It was simple. Stupid," he added, leaning his head back on the truck. "But it was somethin'. It was enough." 

You reached for his hand, and he did better, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You leaned in against him, head on his chest, and blessed every god you could think of for giving this- giving him- back to you. 

"You were alone," Rick said, and you felt Daryl's arm tighten around you, felt him breath in sharply, like Rick had offered him absolution and he didn't think he deserved it. 

"I thought I'd lost all of ya. YN, Merle, you and the kids, Michonne, Carol, Beth, Maggie and Glenn, Sasha and Tyreese. Thought I was alone, and it was my fault for losin' Beth." 

Yeah, you were going to have to get to the bottom of the story behind that. Something had happened with Beth, and it was tearing him up from the inside out. You understood; God knew you understood. You just needed to know why. 

"Said they were lookin' for some people. A couple of guys and a woman. Didn't say one of 'em only had one hand, though you'd think that'd come up," he went on. "Last night they said they spotted them. Said they'd killed some of their own, they were gonna get revenge. I was hanging back. I was gonna leave. But I stayed." His arm tightened around you, his hand gripping your shoulder. You leaned back, looking up at him. He had tears in his eyes, and you scooted up a bit to touch your lips to his cheek. 

"That's when I saw it was you guys. Didn't see my girl here at first," he said quietly, looking at Rick. " Glad I didn't. I might have done somethin' stupid, got ya all killed. Just saw you and Michonne and Merle on the ground. Carl in the truck as I came up beside it. Right when you saw me." 

He was looking away from you both, out at the trees, as he continued. "I didn't know what they could do." 

You could hear the pain in his voice, hear him blaming himself for them getting a hold of you, of Michonne, of Carl. 

"It's not on you, Daryl," Rick said seriously, and looked into your friends eyes and tried to tell him thank you without saying a word. 

Daryl looked over at Rick, and Rick leaned in to bump Daryl's shoulder with his own. 

"Hey," Rick repeated, more firmly. "It's not on you. You being with us, here, now- that's everything. You're my brother." 

You felt Daryl's reaction as that hit him, even as he just looked away from Rick and nodded. This time when Rick met your eyes you mouthed your thanks to him, and Rick smiled. 

The three of you were silent for a long moment. 

Merle paced back out of the woods, glancing over at the three of you before walking around to the end of the truck and disappearing from view. You shifted down until your head was in Daryl's lap, and he stroked a hand down your arm absently. You closed your eyes for the first time since you'd heard the ringleader's voice, and soon you were almost asleep. 

"Hey," Daryl's voice was soft. "What you did last night? Anybody would have done that. She would have. I would have. Merle would have." 

"No, not that," Rick said softly. 

You opened your eyes with a groan. "Rick, you crazy bastard, I handed you the knife. Hell, I slit the guy's throat and stuck a knife in his brain for good measure. Daryl and Merle? They don't talk about it, but they went through hell as kids. You know that." 

You sat up reluctantly and faced your men. Daryl wasn't meeting your eyes, and you felt bad for bringing up his past, but Rick needed to hear you, damn it. Rick was looking at you, but he was ashamed and worried. 

"Either of them would have done the same and worse to him for even thinking about laying a hand on Carl- and they wouldn't have killed him first. If there hadn't been things going on that I couldn't see, I'd have done worse than slit his throat." Your voice was hard and cold and you meant every word as you continued. "I would have taken my time, carved him up slow, so it hurt as much as possible. I'd have broken bones and made him bleed. Hell, I'd have cut his junk off and shoved it down his own throat," you snarled, and both of them paled a little at that. "So if you think anyone is going to judge you or blame you? Well." You shrugged. 

"You saw what I did to Tyreese," Rick started. "It ain't all of it, but that's me. That's why I'm here now. That's why Carl is. I want to keep him safe. That's all that matters." 

You met Rick's eyes and smiled. "Exactly."


	31. You'd Arrived; Time to Survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

You were walking again, down the tracks. Merle had given you a look of approval when the three of you had finally stood and come around to where he leaned on the truck. 

Michonne and Carl had climbed out while you filled Daryl in on Terminus, and your stomach churned at the scrapes on Carl's hands and face. But he'd looked at you and Rick and smiled, and when Rick had put a hand on his shoulder, Carl had leaned into the touch a little. 

He was good kid, and he was going to be ok. 

Now you were getting close to Terminus, and you and Daryl were walking beside each other, shoulders brushing with each step. If you hadn't both wanted your hands free for weapons, you'd have been holding on to each other. 

You kept glancing over at him as you walked, just to reassure yourself he was still there, and every time you caught him doing the same with you and you'd both smile. 

"You two are enough to turn a man's damn stomach, baby brother," Merle grumbled toward you at one point, but you'd just flashed him a grin over your shoulder.   
He was smiling at you as you did. 

Rick had the lead, Michonne at his shoulder. Carl followed along, hovering between the two of them and you and Daryl. Merle played rear guard, at his own insistence. Rick and Michonne were exchanging glances while they talked quietly as well, and you nudged Daryl and gestured to them. 

He looked from them to you and back with a confused expression. You sighed. 

Dixons. Oblivious. 

Rick headed toward the fallen sign, and soon you were all standing around it, looking down at a map of the rail lines. Highlighted in black were the routes to Terminus. 

"We're gettin' close now," Daryl said. "We'll be there before sundown." 

Rick nodded. "Now we head through the woods." 

You sighed. "'The woods are lovely, dark and deep'," you muttered. 

Michonne laughed as everyone looked at you. "'Miles to go before I sleep'," she replied, and you smiled at her. 

"Frost," you told them all, and Merle snorted as he hitched a bag over his shoulder. 

"Ain't never was much for no poetry, little sister," he said. 

"But you knew it was poetry, so you're not a total loss," you told him cheerfully. 

"We don't know who these people are," Rick said, and the mood sobered again instantly. 

"All right," you agreed, and you trooped off the tracks. 

 

Your people had picked up some woods skills while you traveled, and the six of you made almost no noise as you crept to the chain link fence. It was overgrown, plants and vines clinging to the links and providing you some much-needed cover as your group got your first look at Terminus. 

You'd made it. 

It was a railway station, as you'd expected, with boarded over windows hand-painted with individual letters spelling out 'Terminus' for the world to see. 

"We all spread out, watch for a while, see what we see. And get ready," Rick said grimly. 

"Stay close, though," you whispered, and caught Carl's look. 

Yes, you knew, spread out and stay close were opposing instructions. You rolled your eyes and wrinkled your nose at him, and he flashed you a grin. 

You paired off, so to speak, with you and Daryl heading one way, Rick and Michonne staying put, and Merle and Carl going another way. You caught Rick's worried look over at Carl, but you knew Merle wouldn't let anything happen to the kid. 

And if he needed it, Merle might even knock some sense into Grimes. 

You stayed close enough to keep Rick in sight, so you saw him hide the bag full of weapons you'd taken from the Claimers. He'd been hauling that thing down the tracks and through the woods all day, and you grinned as he buried it and marked the spot. 

Good man, Rick Grimes, taking a page out of your book. Always leave supplies on the exit route. 

Then you watched, and you waited. 

 

And after awhile, you moved. 

Rick went over the fence first. You and Michonne followed, then Carl and Merle with Daryl bringing up the rear. It was obvious you'd come at the place from the back, and you were glad Rick had taken your concerns seriously. 

There was something not right going on here. 

The six of you had watched for hours, and seen no one. No signs of life, living or undead. 

All of your senses were on high alert, and you and Rick had held a low argument over the benefits of watching through the night or going right in that had gotten a chuckle from Merle and had Carl muttering about Dixon/Grimes grudge matches. Finally, he'd come up with this idea, and you'd been content. You were using caution, but moving forward. 

Good enough for you. 

There was still nothing stirring as you'd all made it over the fence, so your group started moving. You nodded to a half-open fire escape door and Rick had nodded back. You hugged the wall as Rick and Daryl took the lead, Rick opening the door and Daryl ducking in first. 

You followed them, Carl's hand on your back and Michonne and Merle bringing up the rear, and you heard the voice. 

"Terminus. Those who arrive survive. Follow the tracks to the point where all lines intersect." 

It sounded like someone was reading a script, and you remembered Michonne mentioning hearing a message over the radio when Daryl had taken them out to get medicine for the sick. 

How long ago was that now? Good God almighty. 

You followed the voice down the dark hall to an open doorway, and you stopped, grouped to either side, to check it out for a minute. 

You exchanged glances with Rick and Daryl and Merle, making plans without speaking in the way you'd been doing for months. 

There was a giant map on the wall, and neat tables drawn up as desks. 

"There are maps at the crossings to help guide you with your journey."

There were a lot of people moving around those desks, and you shot a glance at Rick's rapidly moving eyes, seriously questioning his decision making here. 

"Sanctuary for all. Community for all." 

You followed Rick and Daryl into the room, and the other three followed you. You moved silently, and the people had yet to notice you. 

You finally located the voice, and sure enough, a grey haired woman sat at a microphone, with headphones over her ears, obviously broadcasting her message over the radio. 

"Those who arrive survive." 

Rick strode toward the woman. 

Well, you'd arrived. Time to see if you would survive.


	32. This Might Be the Beginning of Beautiful Friendship. But Probably Not.

"Hello," Rick said, interrupting the woman and scaring the crap out of her if the way she jumped was any indication. 

You followed him, bow held loose in your hands, and the six of you spread out in a line so the startled people in the room could see you clearly. 

You glanced around the room, studying their operation while Rick handled the business of talking your way in. The maps were everywhere, along with the slogan, and these people had clearly been working on making more. 

Some of the hanging maps had longer paths marked, and comments on parts of them, about what could be found in that area. They were obviously trying to expand their reach, and these guys were making that happen. 

They were drawing people in, and the question- well, one of your many questions- was why. 

There had been silence for a long time after you'd appeared, and your eyes snapped to one guy in particular when he rolled his eyes and set down a paintbrush. 

"Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch," he said, sounding pissed but amused. He was younger than Rick, tall, with dark hair and shifty eyes. 

Ok, fine, yes; you were paranoid. You didn't need to be told that. 

But there was something about this place. 

You shouldn't have been able to get in the way you did. A community that was literally calling people to them, asking people to come, should have had better protection. 

All angles should have been covered. There should have been guards on the top of the building, roving patrols along the fences and walls, and a guards in the woods themselves. 

Hell, you'd been checking the trees for platforms as you approached. 

There was something not right about this whole place. 

The guy came forward toward your group. "You here to rob us?" he asked bluntly. 

"No," Rick answered, and gestured with the hand that held his gun, but he kept the gun down- there, but not a threat. "We wanted to see you before you saw us." 

"Makes sense," the guy said as Rick moved forward a few steps. 

A glance at Daryl had the two of you following at his back, flanking him on either side. Merle and Michonne eased a little closer to Carl as you threw a look back their way. All of you kept your weapons in your hands, but not aimed. 

We're armed, but not dangerous. Yet. 

The guy was putting on an air of flustered and annoyed, but you caught the way he cast quick, assessing looks over each of you. He used his gestures and mannerisms to cover the messages he was sending to his people, and you didn't know exactly what he was conveying- just that he and his people could use the same system of wordless looks that you and yours could. He was obviously a leader, if not the leader. 

"Usually we do this where the tracks meet," he said finally, holding his arms out in an encompassing gesture as he closed the space between him and Rick. "Ahem. Welcome to Terminus." 

He had a speech-maker's voice now, his words clearly something he'd said many times over, and he lifted his arms to gesture at the room around them. 

You didn't bother to follow the gesture, keeping your eyes on him the whole time. 

"I'm Gareth. Looks like you've been on the road for a good bit." 

It wasn't a question, but Rick wasn't one for listening to other people's speeches, so he treated it like one. 

"We have." He said, and you risked a glance at him, saw his eyes were suspicious and his face closed off. "Rick," he continued. "YN, Daryl. That's Carl, Michonne, Merle." 

The guy, Gareth, waved once, offering a tight smile at all of you. His held himself still and controlled, until suddenly he didn't, exploding, almost, into what was supposed to be casual gestures as he spoke. "You're nervous, I get it. We were all the same way." 

His smile was fake-friendly, but his eyes weren't. 

You were looking rapidly around now, waiting for the trap to spring, because you were certain it was coming. You didn't trust it when voices and body language didn't match, and he was a mess of contradictions. The open, friendly, gosh-man persona sat over him like a cheap suit, lumpy and hanging loose in some places, and stretched too tightly in others, and under it? 

Well, you weren't sure yet, but under it you sensed a killer. 

"We came here for sanctuary," he was continuing. "That what you're here for?" 

"Yes," Rick whispered, eyes locked on Gareth's face. 

"Good," Gareth said, and there was something self-satisfied and smirky about his tone. "You found it. Hey, Alex-" he turned and motioned a guy forward before turning back and addressing his words to your whole group. "This isn't as pretty as out front. We got nothin' to hide-" 

Yeah, you were fairly certain that was a lie.

"- but the welcome wagon is a whole not nicer. Alex will take you, ask you a few questions." Gareth glanced at the new guy, who had a goofy smile in place as well. Alex didn't give off the same serial-killer-trying-to-pass vibes that Gareth did, but you weren't about to be lulled, and Gareth's next words had you snapping back to him with a snarl. 

"Uh, but first, we need to see everyone's weapons. If you could just lay them down in front of you." He met and held Rick's eyes and Rick considered him for a moment. 

Then he turned and looked at the two of you. You just twitched one eyebrow in the equivalent of a shrug. 

Whatever. You weren't going to be unarmed here for long, no matter what this prick said, but this was Rick's show. 

Daryl and the others must have agreed, because when Rick nodded and pulled out his own gun, you heard the others following suit. 

"I'm sure you understand," Gareth said with a shrug that didn't reach his shoulders. 

"Yes, I do," Rick replied, kneeling as he put down his gun and his knife. 

You saw Daryl bend to put down his crossbow, heard Merle's gun and Michonne's sword hit the ground, and glanced over the row of your people, all half-bent or kneeling. 

You stayed put. Gareth's eyes met yours and flicked to the bow in your hands and the weapons on your belt, then back up, his eyebrow raising. You just waited, until Rick and Daryl were standing again, and Rick shot you a look of his own. 

Then you lowered your bow to the ground, crouched, and started taking out everything else. 

You'd picked up a few things, some even the others didn't know about, but Rick had his arms out and the guy was moving forward like he was going to search him. 

Better to put them all down than have one found, you thought with a sigh. First you shrugged out of your quiver, laying it with your bow. Then you pulled the gun from your thigh holster, placing it on the ground. Next came the one you'd gotten off the asshole who'd grabbed you with the Claimers, producing it from where you'd stuffed it through your belt at the small of your back, and then you realized you had literally everyone's attention. 

You stared down Gareth as you pulled your machete from one hip and tossed it down, then you knife from its sheath hit the pile too. You saw him nod in satisfaction, like he thought you were done, but then you reached down into your boot and pulled out a pocketknife, tossing it down with a clatter. 

You heard Daryl snort beside you as you rose slowly, hands up, while Gareth's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. 

Then you paused, held up one finger, and reached into the your pants pocket. You came out with a thin coil of wire you'd shoved in there a day or two earlier, planning on making a garrote when you had the time. 

Carl straight up laughed as you dropped the wire onto the pile as well. 

The two of them exchanged glances, then came forward to start patting you all down. They started with Rick and Daryl, apparently deeming them the most dangerous of your group, despite the profusion of weapons you had tossed in front of you. 

Gareth took Rick and Alex took Daryl, and you heard Alex speak while you held Rick's eyes over Gareth's movements. 

"I'd hate to see the other guy," Alex joked, and you growled a little. 

"You would," you put in, and Gareth shot you a considering look. Gareth jerked his head toward Merle next, and Alex went over to the other Dixon brother as Gareth sauntered over to you. 

He looked down at the pile at your feet and then met your eyes. "Did you get it all?" he asked, a smirk hovering at the edge of his lips. 

You shrugged, and answered his challenge with one of your own. "Probably. Don't need them to be dangerous, so sometimes I forget." 

Daryl snorted softly beside you, but your attention was on Gareth. His eyes hardened a little, like he knew he wasn't fooling you with his act. 

"Well, let's just see, shall we?" he said, holding your eyes as he moved closer. 

You braced yourself, wondering how this would go, but his movements were brisk and businesslike. No lingering touches or any contact that wasn't necessary, and he stepped back with a nod before moving down to Michonne. 

They didn't say anything else as they searched Carl and Michonne, and you gave Rick, Daryl, and Merle all a quick nod to show you were fine when you felt their eyes on you. 

Overprotective, the men in your life were, but you had to admit it made you feel safe. 

All four of you turned the same looks on Carl and Michonne, and Carl rolled his eyes at you. Michonne just nodded, once, and you nodded back.


	33. Are You Really Paranoid If People Are Actually Out To Get You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

"Just so you know, we aren't those kinds of people. But we aren't stupid, either," Gareth said as you focused back on him. "And you shouldn't be stupid enough to try anything stupid. So long as everyone's clear on that, we shouldn't have any problems." 

Was it just you, or did his eyes linger on you a little pointedly while he said that? 

"Ok," he said when Rick nodded slightly. He clapped his hands together, and Alex bent and grabbed Michonne's sword, handing it to her hilt- first. 

You took that as a clear invitation and bent to retrieve your own weapons, scooping up Daryl's crossbow and handing it up to him before Gareth could grab it. Daryl remained standing, covering your group with a glare as everyone rearmed themselves. 

It took you the longest, of course, and Carl was smirking again when you finally stood and shoved your machete into place. 

"Well, follow me," Alex offered with a wave of his hand. He led the way through the building and out a different door than the one you'd come in. 

You and Daryl were right behind him, Rick having dropped back to hold a quick whispered word with Carl and Michonne. Merle was right behind the two of you, and you felt him brush your back with his hand, once, a ready signal. He had your backs. 

"So how long has this place been here?" Daryl asked Alex, who turned to him with a smile as you came out into the sunlight. 

"Since almost the start," he answered, and you raised one eyebrow. 

How in the hell? With their shitty guards? 

You were still nervous and on-edge, maybe more so since they'd let you keep your weapons. At least if they'd taken them, you'd have known the score. 

"When all the camps got overrun, people started findin' this place," Alex continued. "I think it was instinct, you know?" 

You were looking around as you walked, seeing the flower beds and a few people; clothing drying in the sun and other signs of civilization, community. 

It just made you more nervous. 

God, you really were a paranoid bitch, weren't you? 

"Follow a path," the guy went on as you rounded a corner into a courtyard. "Some people were heading to the coast, others out west or up north, but they all wound up here." 

Your group slowed as he did, and you looked around at the courtyard you now found yourself in. There were picnic tables with umbrellas, and an open air kitchen much like the one you'd built in the prison. 

There was something cooking, and it smelled.... familiar. 

And not in a good way. 

What in the world? 

There was a woman behind the barbecue, and you had a flash of Carol's face, laughing up at Merle. 

"Hi," she greeted you. "Heard you came in the back door. Smart. You'll fit right in here." 

You glanced at Rick as he came up by your shoulder, the others closing ranks at your back as they took in the new place. 

There was a raised garden bed, and your eyes skipped over it to focus on the people. There was something- 

"Hey, Mary, would you fix each of these new folks a plate for me?" Alex offered, and you glanced at him to catch the edge of his long, pointed look at her. 

Suddenly, it clicked. 

The smell. 

You'd smelled it before. 

"Rick!" you snapped, turning to him with wild eyes, but he was already walking forward and slapping the plate out of Alex's hands, grabbing something out of the man's pocket. 

Your bow was drawn and you closed around Rick, and a glance showed that each of your friends had done the same. You were back to back with Daryl and Merle when you shouted out what you'd realized. 

"Rick, they're eating people," you snapped, and you felt the stillness descend over your group. 

"The hell, woman?" Daryl asked, but there was no time to explain. 

"Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick was snarling behind you, and then you put your finger on what was wrong with the people in front of you. 

One woman, who had a gun trained on your group now, was wearing Daryl's poncho. One man was in riot gear from the prison. Somebody else had an orange backpack at their feet that looked an awful lot like Bob's. 

"You want answers? You want anything else? You get 'em when you put down the guns." 

"I see your man on the rood with a sniper rifle," Rick snarled. 

Holy shit. You'd missed that. Your gaze shot up, taking in the roof lines now, and beside you Merle's rifle shot up to cover the roof. You brought your gaze back to the crowd watching your group. 

"How good's his aim?" Rick was asking Alex. "Where'd you get the watch?" 

Silence. 

"Where'd you get the watch?!" Rick yelled. 

"Don't do anything!" the guy called to the sniper. He put the right note of fear into his voice, that was true, and if it hadn't been for the smell, you might have been fooled. 

"I have this! You just put it down. You put it down! You want to listen to me," Alex continued in a quieter voice as the sniper dropped his gun down. "There's a lot of us." 

"Where did you get the damn watch?" you yelled, ready for this to be over. 

"I got it off of a dead one," Alex finally answered. 

Lie, a your brain whispered, even as your heart sank. There was only one watch Rick could be talking about, and even though you couldn't see it, you knew- the pocket watch Hershel had given Glenn. 

"I didn't think he'd need it," the guy continued. 

"How about the riot gear? The poncho?" you shot back. 

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop," Gareth's voice came from the side, and you broke ranks to step over and cover him. 

You were pretty sure he was the biggest threat here. 

"Found the poncho on a clothesline," he continued, hands spread slightly at his side. 

See? Harmless. 

Or not, you thought as you watched his eyes. They were cold and blank. 

And the air smelled like charred flesh, like Karen and David's bodies in the prison courtyard.


	34. These Assholes Are Eating People, Come On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

"Gareth, we can wait," Alex said. 

"Shut up, Alex," Gareth snapped, and you had to hand it to them. They were good at this game; good at pretending like there was nothing going on but what it seemed. Good at trying to paint the image that they just didn't want trouble, just wanted to help people. 

Good thing you were good at seeing through bullshit. 

"You talk to me," Rick snarled. 

Gareth folded his hands. "What's there left to say? You don't trust us anymore." 

You snorted. "Yeah, pretty sure that's the other way around. We never trusted you, you people-eating freak." 

"People? You think we're- eating- people?" Gareth's tone was right, but his body tensed up. Not surprise, but anger. 

"See that, Cowboy?" you asked grimly. 

"Yeah, I saw it," he answered, his tone the same. 

You took a pace back, falling back into line with the others while still keeping Gareth in your sights. 

Gareth held one hand up, palm flat and open. Goddamn it, that was a signal. 

You exchanged a look with Merle, who nodded, and you heard him start to murmur something low to Carl at his side. Daryl's arm brushed your side, and you knew he was on the same page as you were. 

"Rick, what do you want?" Gareth asked. 

"Where are our people?" Rick snarled back. 

"You didn't answer the question." Gareth's hand became a fist, and you were in motion before it closed, shoving the others back as you ran. 

"Move, move, move," you called, as bullets started flying. 

"Carl!" Rick cried, and you skidded to a stop as gunfire erupted at your feet. 

It happened a few more times while you ran before you all put it together. 

"Rick, they're herding us!" you yelled, even as your group took the only path you could. 

"Yeah, I know," he called back, and you exchanged a look with Daryl. 

 

You ran past an entire enclosure full of skeletons, and your stomach lurched, but there was no time to think about it. They were driving you somewhere, and you ignored cries of help from a locked train car as you ran. 

Well, that would haunt you for a while. 

The room full of candles was a surprise, you had to admit. 

It was clearly a shrine of some sort, and you took in the writing on the wall even as Daryl muttered 'what the hell?' 

Never again. Never trust. We first, always. 

Huh. That was a lot more believable that 'sanctuary for all, community for all'. 

Those who arrive survive, your ass. 

There were names painted on the floor, but you were busy trying to get out doors that kept slamming shut. 

"Rick, I'm starting to feel like a damn sheep!" you snapped, and he shot you a 'what the hell do you want from me?' look. 

At least you were armed. 

 

More bullets as you made it outside and headed toward the fence, but then Daryl was skidding to a stop and pulling you along with him. 

"Behind us. Roof," Merle's voice was hard and brisk, no words wasted. 

"Fence is covered," Daryl snapped, as people stood, armed to the teeth, in front of you. 

"Son of a bitch!" you yelled, and whirled to take in the situation. 

Merle was aiming at one of the three- yes, three- rooftop snipers, his posture holding that military-proficiency you relied on in times of crisis. Rick was looking around like you were, Michonne was covering Carl, and Daryl was watching the people on the fence. 

There was no way in hell, and you knew it. 

Rick met your eyes and you shared a wordless moment before Gareth's voice broke the tense stillness. 

"Drop your weapons! Now." 

You thought hard about it, you really did. Your brain flicked through a dozen options, but they all ended with somebody dead. 

Rick's eyes, locked on yours, showed the same thing. 

There was no one here you could stand to see die. 

"Live to fight another day," you whispered to Rick, and you heard Carl's gun drop first. 

You gave Daryl a smile as you dropped your bow. 

"The rest of it too, sweetheart," Gareth's voice came again, and you shrugged. 

"Can't blame a girl for trying, asshole," you called back cheerfully, even as you began slowly removing the rest of your collection. 

"Ringleader, go to your left," Gareth ordered, and Rick didn't budge. "The train car. Go." 

You watched Rick look at the train car and then back at Gareth. 

"You do what we say, the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies and you end up in there anyway." 

Rick looked at Carl and gave him the faintest of nods before walking. 

"Now the archer," Gareth called, and you and Daryl looked at each other. 

"Which one?" you yelled back, earning a slight smile from Daryl despite the circumstances. 

"Fair point. The winged archer. Go." 

Daryl kept his eyes on you as long as he could, but he followed Rick to the steps of the train car. 

"Now the samurai." 

Hey, that was your nickname for her. Thief. 

"And the metal man. Go on." 

Merle shot you an amused glance, and you rolled your eyes back. 

Yes, Merle, metal man was pretty good. You should have come up with that one yourself. 

He followed his brother, and you turned your eyes to Carl. Kid looked terrified, but was holding it together. His back was to Gareth, and he gave you a slight smile. 

You smiled back. "It's cool, Grimes," you whispered. 

"Shut up, Troublemaker. Your turn," Gareth called. 

"No. Send the kid first. Then I'll go." Your voice was flat denial. 

"You think this is a negotiation?" Gareth called. "Fine. Shoot the kid." 

"Fucker!" you yelled, and started moving. 

Your back was to Carl, but you watched Rick's anxious face as he watched Carl. 

"Stand at the door. Ringleader, Archer, Samurai, Metal Man, Troublemaker. In that order." 

You couldn't help but grin. Troublemaker was appropriate. 

Once you were lined up, you kept your eyes trained on Carl, who stood still where you'd left him. He'd moved only to turn his head to watch the five of you, the scrapes on his cheek standing out a stark red against the white of his face. 

"My son!" Rick yelled. There was a long, pregnant pause. 

"Go, kid." Gareth finally called, and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding."Ringleader, open the door and go in," he added as Carl started toward you. 

"I'll go in with him!" 

"Ringleader...." 

Rick snarled, but did as he was told, watching as long as he could. The others followed, until you lingered on the stairs as Carl finally reached them. 

You ducked into the darkness, reaching back for Carl's hand, and the door slid closed as he grabbed it. 

 

"Rick?" a voice came out of the darkness, and you let out a gasp. 

It was Glenn. 

"You're here," Rick whispered, and then Maggie appeared at Glenn's side. Then Sasha and Bob and then-

There were four faces you didn't recognize, and Maggie glanced back at them. 

"They're our friends. They helped save us." 

"Well," you said into the silence. "Now they're friends of ours." 

"For however long that'll be," the dude with the fiery red hair and huge mustache put in snidely. 

You barked a laugh at that one. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out," you said, amusement in your voice as you glanced at Rick. 

He paced to the door and peered through one of the holes. 

"Find out what?" Big Red asked, stepping toward you.

Everyone was staring at Rick, waiting in silence, and you loved that dramatic son of a bitch as he turned so the light and shadows fell perfectly across his face. 

"They're screwing with the wrong people."


	35. Ten Idiots Locked in a Train Car by Cannibals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

"YN finally got a nickname," Carl said into the silence. "It fits her."

Michonne started laughing first, sliding down the wall, laughing so hard she couldn't stand. Carl started next, leaning into your side as he watched Michonne lose it. 

But it was Rick who set everyone off for real; Rick who just leaned his forehead into the door after his dramatic as fuck pronouncement, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold it in but couldn't. 

Once Rick lost it, every one of your people joined in. Merle's raucous laugh filled the gloom; Maggie and Glenn were leaning on each other for support; Bob's chuckle sparked Sasha's answering snicker. You had tears on your face and were struggling to breathe. Daryl was the last to join in, taking two long steps over to where you had an arm tossed around Carl and grabbing both of you in a hug. He pressed his face into your neck and rested a hand on Carl's shoulder and you could feel him laughing into you. 

You were starting to catch your breath, and you glanced over at the other four while your friends laughed around you, relief at finding each other making Carl's statement funnier than it should have been. 

But it was pretty damn funny. 

Big Red, Mullet, and G.I. Jane stood close together, obviously a unit the way your people were obviously a unit. Big Red was in charge, from the way he stood just a little in front of the other two, and he was looking at your people like they had lost their damn minds. 

To be fair, ten idiots locked in a train car by cannibals and laughing so hard they were struggling to stand was pretty fuckin' crazy. 

You glanced over at the other new face, a girl who hovered awkwardly between Maggie and Glenn and Big Red's trio, her dark eyes shooting around the group. Whenever her gaze landed on you, it shifted away again with a hint of guilt. She had two short, messy ponytails, and she looked sort of- 

You shoved back out of Daryl and Carl's holds and were halfway across the space between you and her before you knew what you were doing. 

"YN!" Glenn said, stepping into you path as you got close to Ponytails. The laughter had cut off abruptly, and you heard movement behind you. Maggie stepped around you to the girl's side, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Glenn, she was with him!" you snapped, and he nodded. 

"I know," he said simply, and you shot him an incredulous look. "She saved my life. I found her in the prison, alone. She hadn't fired a shot." 

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what she told you!" you spat out, glaring at the girl who wouldn't meet your eyes. 

"No, that's what I saw when I took her gun from her and it was completely full!" Glenn snapped back. "Tara saved my life on the road, YN. She helped me get to Maggie. She's good." 

"She was with the Governor!" 

Glenn just stayed in your path as you tried to go around him, forcing you to look in his eyes as he put a hand on your shoulder. "So was Merle." 

Well, fuck. 

You could hardly argue with that, now could you? 

You felt a lot of your anger draining, and you gave Glenn a long look. He looked a hell of a lot better than the last time you'd seen him, and some of the turmoil inside settled down. You trusted him, even if you didn't trust her. 

Once upon a time, you'd asked him and Maggie to trust you about one of the Governor's men. 

Guess it was time to return the favor. 

"Did you ask her the questions?" you asked, your eyes going back to her. She shifted uncomfortably, but this time she looked you in the eyes. 

"What questions?" The redhead asked. 

"Not your turn, Big Red," you shot over your shoulder, and looked at Ponytails- Tara. "How many walkers have you killed?" 

Her eyes widened a little and she glanced at Glenn. Glenn nodded his encouragement. "I- I don't know." 

"How many people have you killed?" you pressed on, and she stood up straighter, her voice more firm. 

"None!" 

"Why?" Rick's voice came from behind you, and you could hear the pride in it. 

She looked over your shoulder to him. "Because it's not who I am. And I haven't needed to." 

Glenn was smiling at you as you nodded. You squeezed his shoulder and stepped past him, extending your hand to Tara. 

"Hey, Tara. I'm YN. Welcome to the family," you said simply, and she took your hand, looking confused. 

"That- that's all? They've told me about you, about what he- I didn't know," she finished, and you gave her a small smile. 

"Oh, Ponytails, I don't trust you yet," you said casually, and she flinched a little. "But Glenn does, and that's good enough for me. For now." 

Her face softened as she looked over at Glenn, and then she smiled at you. "Thanks. Nice to meet you, and all." 

You looked past her to Maggie then, and wrapped her in a tight hug. "Oh, I missed you," you whispered, and she chuckled. 

"I missed you, too, YN." 

"This is a touching reunion and all, so I'm sorry to break up the lovefest, but who the hell are you people?" Big Red put in, and you saw Glenn grit his teeth a little as you turned to the trio. 

"Hold your horses, there Big Red," you drawled, stepping over to him. "We've got some questions first. For Mullet and G.I. Jane over there too," you added, and the pretty Hispanic girl grinned at you. 

Apparently she liked G.I. Jane. 

"Am I to understand that this admitted pistol of a woman here is in charge of this expedition?" Big Red blustered, looking behind you. You sighed, but Rick answered him before you could. 

"She's certainly speakin' for all of us now. I'd talk to her if I was you." His voice sounded amused more than anything, and you were grateful. 

"Let's start with some names, shall we?" You said politely. "Who are you?" 

"That's Abraham," Glenn said, seeming annoyed when Big Red said nothing. "And Eugene and Rosita. They helped me find Maggie and Sasha and Bob. They're trying to get Eugene to Washington DC." 

"Jesus, why?" you muttered, imagining how long that trip would be. 

Mullet spoke up then. "Because I can end this outbreak and save the world."


	36. Human Pillow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion/mention of past child abuse  
> discussion/mention of past alcohol and drug addiction  
> references to past rape/non con

Eugene was some scientist smarty pants who was going to save the world with the push of a button, and Abraham was already trying to recruit your people to go with them. Stories were told, tears were shed, condolences were given. Hugs were exchanged and backs were slapped. 

No one knew anything more about Tyreese or Beth, and Beth especially weighed heavily on Glenn and Maggie and Daryl. 

Rick was trying to speech-make you into an army, and everyone was trying to make weapons out of something. 

You'd told Rick he just needed to take a few strategic bites, and Rick had winced. You'd felt a little bad, but Carl, who had overheard, had snorted out a laugh and Rick had given him a smile and all was well. 

You were exhausted, so you'd slid down to sit against the wall at one end of the train car, leaving the others to their business at the far end. Before too long, Daryl had joined you, dropping down beside you with a sigh and pulling you against him immediately. 

You'd talked a little, but before you knew it your eyes were closed and you were half-dreaming. 

"Merle," you heard Daryl whisper, and you wanted to say something, really you did, but God. Opening your eyes was too hard. 

"What's up, little brother?" Merle said, and Daryl hissed at him to shut up. 

"She's asleep, asshole. I need to talk to Rick," he added. 

"I'll get him for ya," Merle said. 

"Naw, come 'ere. Don't wanna wake her up, but don't want her sleepin' on the damn ground neither. Just- here, give her your shoulder," Daryl said, and you were being jostled a bit even as Merle protested. 

You started to tell them that you didn't need a damn human pillow; if Daryl needed to talk to Rick he could just go. 

Since Merle's arm settled loosely around your shoulders, and he shifted his shoulder uncomfortably under your cheek, you didn't think you'd succeeded. 

"I ain't sure what you want me to do here, baby brother," Merle hissed at Daryl. 

"Just sit there, idiot. Let my woman get some sleep." 

It was quiet for another moment, and you were being pulled deeper into sleep as you shifted your cheek against Merle. 

The last thing you were really aware of was his long exhaled sigh, and the ghost of a kiss on your temple. 

 

The nightmare was harsh and stark, and you woke up abruptly. 

You were stretched on the floor, your head pillowed on someone's leg, but as you awoke you were very aware that it wasn't Daryl's. 

"Easy there, little sister," Merle's voice whispered in the black-on-black darkness as you scrambled halfway up, breathing hard. 

"Merle?" you whispered back, trying to get a look around to take stock of things. You could hear a low conversation from the other end of the train car, and the deep breathing sounds of people sleeping much closer. There was no light coming in from the cracks in the train car's walls, so full night had fallen while you slept.

"I'm right here, little sister," he answered, running his hand over your hair. Fresh off the nightmare, you jerked away from his hand, and you felt his voice change as he let it fall. "Sorry, darlin'. Daryl and Rick been havin' themselves a pow-wow over there for a few hours. Baby brother didn't want ya layin' your head on the hard floor, so ol' Merle got drafted as your pillow. Been sleepin' away, pretty as a princess." 

The curious mix of concern and assholery in his voice dispelled the last of the fear from your mind, and you scooted back to lean against the wall beside him with a long sigh. You scrubbed a hand over your eyes, trying to clear the lingering exhaustion.

"Wanna talk about it?" Merle whispered, and you shook your head before you realized that he probably couldn't see that. 

"No," you said shortly. 

You felt rather than saw his shrug. You were sitting close enough that your arms brushed with the motion. 

"Don't have to talk about nothin' you don't wanna. I already know anyway," he whispered back, and there was something in his voice that tugged at your heart. You remembered the way he'd looked at you in Glenn's cell, the way he'd looked at you in the back of the truck as he told you how ashamed he was and that he'd tried to help you. 

You leaned your cheek against his shoulder again, and felt him stiffen at the contact before relaxing into it, so much like Daryl that it made you smile even as it made you want to cry. These Dixon boys had taken some hard hits in life, and easy physical affection was something they'd never had. You'd gotten Daryl past the flinching stage, at least with you, but Merle was an even harder sell. 

"You're not the same person I met, Merle Dixon," you told him gently, and felt his chuckle. 

"Naw, darlin', that I am not," he agreed. You nodded against his shoulder, and he patted your knee briefly. 

"What were like before all this?" you asked, thinking about the difference in the rough-and-tumble asshole who'd leered at you and kidnapped you, and this man who let you use him as a pillow for countless hours just because his brother had asked him to. 

"Nobody I'd want anywhere near you, little sister," he answered, voice hard and sad. 

"Oh, I doubt that," you said with a chuckle. "You'd have hit on me, at least." 

That got another rumbling chuckle out of him. 

"You tried to hit on me when we met," you mused. "Why don't you anymore?" 

He laughed again. "And take away the thing that makes my baby brother so happy? Naw. Couldn't do it," he said. "Besides, you'd knock me on my ass if I tried." 

"That's true," you whispered, and the two of you lapsed into silence. 

Your eyes were adjusting now, the darkness becoming a little less impenetrable as you picked out shapes in it. Maggie and Glenn were the closest to you, wrapped around each other as they slept in a way you recognized immediately from your time on the road together, before the prison. There were some other lumps close by, and one sprawled out a little way away that you knew to be Carl. Across the car, you could hear the low conversation of three voices. The darkness moved, and as you studied it, you picked out Rick, Daryl, and Michonne's distinctive gestures. 

"I was an asshole before," Merle spoke into the quiet. "Just a kid, angry at the world, lookin' for trouble. Found plenty of it, and when I was offered a chance to get away? I took it. Snapped it up without thinkin' it through, the way kids do." 

You were still against him, feeling the tension in his body as he spoke. He never talked about the past, and Daryl did only when he had to. You didn't want to do anything that would make him stop. 

"Then I came back, and I was a pissed off soldier, runnin' from ghosts he didn't even want to admit haunted him. I drowned 'em in booze and pills and drugs, driftin' from trouble to trouble and draggin' the only person in the world who gave a shit about me along for the ride," he continued, and you could feel him picking at his pants leg while he talked. You reached out and touched the back of his hand, and he stilled and stiffened under you again. 

You waited, and eventually he relaxed, and you gripped his hand with yours. 

"I swear I didn't know our daddy was beatin' up on him," he said, and you heard the regret in his voice. "I was five when our mama had him. I half-raised him. Wiped his ass and cooked his meals, especially after Mama died. Damn fool woman. Told her not to smoke in bed like that, but she didn't listen to nobody, 'specially not her own kid." He snorted in disgust and shook his head. 

"I wouldn't'a left if I'd known, little sister," he whispered. You said nothing, just squeezed his hand in yours. 

One thing you'd never doubt again in this world- Merle Dixon loved his brother. More than you'd ever suspected from what Daryl had told you of him. 

"I abandoned my baby brother to the man who beat the shit outta me at least once a week," he was saying, and you could have sworn you heard tears in his voice. "Then when I came back, I dragged him to every crack house and drug den in the state of Georgia; every bar and a few brothels. Got him arrested a time or three. Bullied him into takin' the fall for me more'n once. Treated him like shit, and all he ever did was try'n help me." Merle's voice trailed off, and he took his hand from yours to wipe at his eyes. 

"He never asked me for nothin'. Just followed when I said go, cleaned me up when I was covered in puke and shit and worse, and took shit jobs to keep us fed and housed. I never seen nobody deserves someone lookin' after him more than he does. So no, darlin', I ain't gonna hit on ya anymore. I'll be your damn pillow, bully ya out of a tree and into takin' care of yourself, haul your ass halfway across the country to get ya back to him, and kill anything that gets in your way. You're his, and you're everything my baby brother's ever needed."


	37. Fuck Shit Up, Troublemaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

The plan was simple: make some weapons, fuck some shit up when the door opened. Stay alive. 

To be fair, you pretty much didn't know anything, so it wasn't like you could make a more nuanced plan than that. 

But still. 

You were the first to think of your belt. Normally, you had some many things hanging in, on, or from it you wouldn't even consider taking it off; but they'd stripped you of your weapons. 

Daryl and Rick were ripping chunks of wood off the walls, and Daryl caught your sudden movement as you jumped to your feet. He stopped what he was doing, and Rick turned around to look at you as well as you stood and started unbuckling your belt. 

You pulled it off and looked at the buckle for a minute before grinning. It had two prongs, and that was perfect. You slipped them between your fingers, wrapping the belt itself up your arm, giving you a weapon- claws- and protection for your arm at the same time. 

Maggie started to chuckle lightly, and you looked up to find everyone's eyes on you. Daryl gave you a hard nod as you met his eyes. 

Several of the others followed your lead, and silence reigned as your group did their best to prepare for what was coming. 

 

"A'ight. I got four of them pricks comin' our way," Daryl said. He'd been acting as lookout, staring out through one of the gaps in the walls. 

Everyone stopped what they were doing. You unfolded from where you'd been sitting in a corner, eyes closed and focused on breathing. 

"Ya'll know what to do," Rick said, falling into step beside you as you strode toward Daryl. "Go for their eyes first. Then their throats." 

You stood just behind Daryl's shoulder, and he turned and pressed a hard kiss to your lips as everyone gathered around you. 

"Love ya, woman," he whispered, and then someone from outside was calling instructions to you. 

"Put your backs to the walls on either side of the car, now!" 

You glanced around at the faces of your friends. Michonne and Merle had closed up around Carl, and you gave Merle a soft smile. He smiled back, and you braced yourself for the door to open, and- 

Well, that was unexpected. 

The roof of the train car opened up and as you all stared, something clattered down. 

Your eyes widened just as Big Red yelled "Move!" and shoved the group on his side back with his body. 

Daryl and Rick were doing the same with your people when the smoke grenade went off. 

 

They came in while the smoke swirled. Your people struggled, but it was no use. 

You struggled, but it was no use. 

"This bitch bit me!" The voice was pissed as its owner threw you down onto the concrete. 

"Hey, jackass, pick on someone your own size!" Daryl's voice was panicked and angry, and you wanted to tell him you were ok and not to make it worse for him, but a foot collided with your skull and the world started to go dark. 

The last thing you saw was Rick being thrown down beside you, looking dazed and confused. Then the world was black. 

 

You were being carted between two people, half carried and half dragged. The world spun and dipped and faded in and out fuzzily, but you heard the distinct sound of a saw whirring. You tried to look around; tried to stand on your own; tried to notice as much as possible. 

Anything to aide your escape. 

The world finally started to coalesce, and you stopped trying to stand, trying to use that energy to, you know, be able to fuckin' see instead. And think. 

There was someone standing at a table, wearing an apron and covered in blood. There was a body in front of that person, and your stomach lurched. 

Yeah, they were definitely eating people. 

The bins marked 'burn', 'feed', and 'wash' just cemented that for you. 

What the hell had you guys stumbled into? Who the hell eats people? There'd been a whole hell of a lot of stories that showed that was a bad fuckin' plan! 

Then you were being forced to your knees and someone was binding your feet and oh for shit's sake, you just realized you were gagged as well. Son of a bitch. 

"Thought they didn't want the women?" someone asked, out of your sight, as Rick was forced down beside you. 

"They don't, usually. Boss said this one's a special case. Fuckin' troublemaker, like the archer and the ringleader. She bit Andrew. Twice." 

Ha. You were a special case. 

Maybe that wasn't something you should be proud of, given the circumstances. 

Daryl struggled against them as they hauled him in, and he only fought harder when he saw you. It was no use, though, and you started to get a little worried as Merle and Glenn came next. 

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? 

More people came, men you didn't recognize, and at the end of the line- wait, that was the guy. The guy with the creepy smile, that you and Rick had met. 

Rick was looking around, and when he caught your gaze he looked to the guy and then to you. You raised one eyebrow at him, the best you could communicate under the circumstances. 

Got a plan there, Cowboy? you were asking. 

He just jerked his hands against the ties and gave you a slight nod. 

Fuck shit up, Troublemaker. 

Well, that's what you decided he meant, anyway. 

 

You were all kneeling beside a slaughter trough. 

You'd never seen one before, much less this perilously close, but what else could it be? These assholes were going to drain your bodies, probably after slitting your throats. 

What? You knew things. 

And the bodies being dressed down on tables around you like you'd done with deer carcasses made it a pretty safe assumption. Hell, you'd been with Daryl and Merle when they'd drained deer by slitting the throat while the deer hung over a bucket. 

This was too similar for your comfort, that's for sure. 

You looked down the line at your family. Glenn looked freaked the fuck out, and you didn't blame him. Hell, he probably hadn't figured out what this was yet. They hadn't straight up called you a liar, but your clan hadn't really believed you when you told them they were cannibals, either. Merle was staring straight ahead, not looking to either side, and from the set to his shoulders, you knew he knew what it was. 

It was pretty clear he didn't think you were getting out of this one. 

Daryl was looking at you. You looked back, and you tried to smile around the gag in your mouth, but you didn't think it worked. So you put everything you had to say into your eyes instead, hoping the message got across. 

I love you, Dixon. We're getting out of this. But if we don't- well. Then I'll see you in the next life. 

You hoped he understood, but you didn't know. He just stared at you, eyes wild, and you stared back. 

There were a couple of assholes behind Rick, and one of them was sharpening a knife. 

 

They started at the other end of the line. 

Daryl finally looked away from you, turning to watch. There were two of them, both wearing clear aprons and gloves and spattered with blood. One had a metal baseball bat, and the other had a knife. 

This was not gonna be good, that's for sure. 

 

You were right; it wasn't good. 

Baseball Bat delivered one hard swing to the head of creepy smile dude, knocking him out with one hit. Immediately, Knife Bro grabbed him by the hair and cut his throat in a smooth, practiced motion. 

As someone who'd had a little experience slitting throats of your own, you knew how much force he put into that cut. The way he did it scared the shit out of you, because it meant he'd had a lot of practice.

Like, a lot a lot. 

Fuck.


	38. Machete with a Red Handle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

The next guys in line were screaming and struggling as the two assholes tossed the dead guy forward. Daryl wrenched his eyes away, dropping his head as blood splattered into the trough. You could see the way his shoulders were jerking, small hard motions to try to loosen whatever they'd tied him with. 

You'd just found him again. 

You were panicking a little, the iron casing closing around your lungs in that damn familiar way. You didn't have time for this, god damn it. You had to find a way out of this mess. 

But all you could think was that you'd only just found Daryl again, and now you were going to watch him die a gruesome death here- where people were goddamn fucking EATING other people. 

Who the hell eats people? 

You were going to watch them all die, Glenn and Merle and Daryl and Rick, because of course you were the Troublemaker, and they were ending with you. 

It wasn't that long ago that you thought you'd been alone, that all of them were gone and you were the last one standing. Now, you were pretty certain that for a few moments at least, that was going to be true. 

Swing, slice, toss. The second man was down. Two more before Glenn. 

You couldn't look away from Daryl; couldn't see anything but his eyes, and the anxious, desperate glances he was shooting to you. The hard, small jerks of his shoulders as he tried, still, to get out. 

To save Glenn. To save you all. 

Swing, slice, toss. The third man was down. One more until Glenn. 

Time had been moving slowly, slowly, slowly. 

Swing, slice, toss. Glenn was next. 

"Hey, guys. What were your shot counts?" 

And it was broken. The sound of Gareth's voice, that snake-in-a-cheap-suit vibe, broke the rising tide of your panic attack, and you were finally able to wrench your eyes from Daryl. Glenn was shaking where he knelt, but he was holding still and not giving into the fear he obviously felt. 

Merle's eyes were closed, but they opened as you looked, and he turned his head ever so slightly to meet your eyes. It was like he'd felt your gaze and turned to you instantly. His eyes were soft as he met yours, like he was saying goodbye. 

That did it. Fuck that. 

Merle wasn't saying goddamn goodbye to you today. Your people weren't going to be a meal for anything, walkers or the living. 

Gareth and the other assholes had been talking, and you hadn't been listening. 

"Hey! Hey, let me talk to you!" you yelled around the gag. It was muffled, but it came out clear enough. 

Gareth ignored you on the surface, but he moved closer, writing something in his little notebook. "Three from D, five from A?" he asked, and the other guys agreed. 

"Come on you asshole, just let me talk to you for a minute! You know you're fucking curious!" You were spitting the words out desperately, hoping he would be curious enough to buy you any amount of time- 

Just another few minutes so you could come up with a plan. 

It worked. He shot you a look, a bare flicker of his eyes to yours that you doubted anyone else would have seen. He huffed, tucked his pencil into the notebook, and pulled your gag from your mouth. 

"What?" he snapped, faking boredom and irritation well. 

To be fair, the irritation was probably real.

"Don't do this," you said softly, seriously. "We can fix this." 

"No," he said,projecting slight amusement. "You can't." 

"I didn't say I could," you snapped as he reached for the gag again. "I said we could. Pay attention, asshole." 

Rick visibly flinched in the corner of your eye when you called Gareth an asshole. Probably not the best method of hostage negotiation, but, well, you were who you were. 

"You do have a mouth on you, don't you?" Gareth's voice was calm, but you saw the hint of something- hopefully interest- in his eyes. There was a chuckle for Baseball Bat behind you, and you realized they'd moved from behind Glenn to behind you. 

Thank God. Glenn was safe, for at least for the time you could keep them occupied. Time for some fast talking,

"So I've been told," you said with a twitch of your shoulders. "Thing is, there's a way out of all this. You just have to take a chance." 

The shadow of something deadly crossed Gareth's face at your words. Wrong choice. Something had happened here, something they'd risked that had broken these people horribly. 

You thought about the shrine, the room with the candles and the slogan painted on the wall; the names painted on the floor. 

Never Again. Never Trust. We First, Always. 

Shit. You'd miscalculated. 

"No," Gareth sneered at you. "We don't. We've taken our chances. Now we just survive." 

"We've got a man with us who can fix this," you shot out, desperately. You were losing Gareth, and you still hadn't come up with any kind of plan. You were no more out of the zip ties now than you had been, and all you'd done was reverse your positions so now Daryl would have to watch you die. 

You wouldn't have wished that on him in a million years, and your mind jumped from thought to thought disjointedly, none of them helpful and all of them horrifying. 

"We can put the world back the way it was," you continued, not really hearing what you were saying, just trying to keep him talking. 

Gareth sighed. "Can't go back, Troublemaker. I expected better from you." 

And he put the gag back in your mouth. 

 

You braced yourself, fixing your eyes on Gareth as you waited for the blow, but he just smiled at you and stepped over to Rick. 

He dropped to a crouch in front of your friend, pulling the gag out of Rick's mouth. 

Rick's eyes were dead as he stared Gareth down, not moving and not saying a word. Stone cold, your Cowboy; but you'd seen the fear in his eyes earlier and knew he just didn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him sweat. 

"Saw you go into the woods with a bag and come out without it. Had to pull my spotters back before we could go look for it. What was in it?" Gareth's tone was light, like this was a lark and he didn't really care if Rick answered or not, but his body language- his body language said otherwise, and you hoped Rick wasn't fooled. 

Rick said nothing, a half-sneer, half-smile on his lips and that thousand yard stare shooting through Gareth's skull. 

You didn't look past him to Daryl. You didn't want to see what his face would look like. You wanted to keep the image you called to mind now, of him grinning at you in the dawn light while he waited for you at the end of a simple, twine-lined aisle. 

Gareth sighed. "You hid it, right? In case things went bad? Smart." The last word sounded pissed, but he covered it with a shrug and an eye roll. 

"Still, we'll find it. But, it's too dangerous to go out there right now," he continued, sinking back onto his heels for a moment. 

You were distracted by his words; the second reference in as many minutes to something being wrong. He'd said he pulled back his spotters. Then that it was too dangerous out there to go looking. 

What was happening in the world beyond this slaughterhouse? 

You blamed the distraction for how easy it was for him to grab you by the back of the head and pull you over the trough, knife at your throat. Daryl jerked and tried to fight, but Gareth just shot him a look and Baseball Bat kicked Daryl solidly in the back. He grunted and stopped struggling. 

"What was in it again?" Gareth said conversationally, turning his attention back to Rick as he held the knife up in front of your eye. His fingers wrapped in your hair as he gripped your head and you shivered slightly. "I'm curious. And it was a... big bag." 

Don't tell him, Cowboy. Don't tell him, you thought, not taking your eyes from Gareth's face. You were close enough to Rick that you could feel the way he was shaking, and you got scared. 

Not for yourself, not for Rick, but for Gareth. 

"You really gonna let me do this?" Gareth asked with a dip of his head in your direction. 

"Well, let me take you out there," Rick said conversationally. "I'll show you." 

Gareth gave that smirky smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Not gonna happen. This might," he added brightly, and the knife slipped closer to your eye. 

You didn't move; didn't even change your focus from his face to the knife. 

He looked at you and gave a low whistle. "It'd be a pity. She's got nerves of steel. Do you? Does the archer over there?" He nodded in Daryl's direction. 

"There's guns in it," Rick spoke practically over Gareth's last words. 

Damn it, Cowboy. It's just an eye. They're going to kill you all anyway; what difference does an eye make? 

"AK-47; .44 Magnum; automatic weapons. Nightscope." He sounded like he was reciting a grocery list, and you felt your lips twitch a little. 

This was your Rick, the dangerous Rick, and this asshole Gareth had no idea who he was messing with. 

"There's a.... compound bow, and a machete with a red handle. That's what I'm gonna use to kill you." 

Oh Jesus. That was a Rick Dramatic Son of Bitch Grimes promise if you'd ever heard one. 

This guy was about to get royally screwed.


	39. You Needed Better Shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

Gareth stared a Rick for a long moment. Finally, he smiled- the first full smile you'd seen from him, though it still didn't reach his eyes- and took his hand from your hair. He put his knife back through his belt as you pulled yourself back from him a little faster than you would have liked. 

Then he was tucking Rick's gag back between his teeth. 

Rick should have taken his bite when he had the chance. 

"Thanks," he told Rick, climbing to his feet. "You have two hours to get them on the driers. Now I'm going to go back to public face. Now's the time we can get messy, but we need to dial it all in by sundown," he told his people. 

Baseball Bat and Knife Bro muttered their agreement, and you heard their footsteps as they came up behind you again. 

You were braced, and you couldn't help it. Despite your resolve, you glanced over at Daryl, and the wild, terrified look in his eyes broke your heart. 

Sorry, Dixon. Didn't want to do this to you. 

Gunshots in the distance. 

What the fuck? 

 

Gareth paused on his way to the door as the shots rang out. He pulled a walkie from his belt, and you looked at Rick, hoping he had a plan and- 

The floor shook, you fell into Rick, and Gareth took off like the hounds of hell were chasing him, yelling unintelligible orders as he went. 

Rick used his shoulder to help you wrestle back to your knees as Knife Bro and Baseball Bat got into an argument over what to do. 

You had absolutely no idea how Rick pulled this shit off, but damn if he wasn't the luckiest bastard in the whole world. Whatever that explosion had been, you were thanking Rick Grimes for it. 

Rick gave you a very significant look and you were grinning behind the foul tasting thing in your mouth. He rose soundlessly to his feet and moved behind Baseball Bat while Knife Bro's back was turned, somehow having gotten both his arms and legs free.

You really wanted to know how he'd managed that trick. 

Then it was pandemonium. Rick came out of nowhere, stabbing something into Baseball Bat's neck first, and Knife Bro was backing up and pleading for his life as Rick advanced on him next. 

The whatever Rick was using as a weapon crunched into Knife Bro's neck once, then into his gut, and Rick just kinda tossed Knife Bro to the ground and stared at the fresh-looking corpse on the table behind Knife Bro. 

You got the feeling he was starting to believe you now, about the people-eating

"Rick!" you yelled around the gag. 

You wanted your hands and feet free and you wanted them now, damn it. 

 

Rick grabbed Knife Bro's blade and started cutting ropes and zip ties. The instant your hands were free you were ripping the gag out of your mouth. 

"Son of a bitch!" you growled as soon as you could speak. 

Someone grabbed your arm and pulled, and you were crushed against Daryl, so tightly held in his arms that you could hear the frantic, pounding pulse of his heart through his leather vest. He only held you to him for a moment before setting you back on your feet and running over to the tables in the room, searching for a weapon. 

But it was enough. You were alive, he was alive, and you'd felt both his crazed fear and his intense relief. 

"If they got problems, we got a chance," Rick said grimly. 

"It sounded like a bomb," Glenn snapped. 

"Sounds like a damn war," Daryl snarled, turning and tossing you a machete from one of the tables as he headed for the dead guy with a knife of his own. 

"Don't," came Merle's hard voice behind you. "Let 'em turn, little brother." 

 

And you were running again. You needed better shoes for this. 

There were rooms with torsos hanging from chains, like you'd seen pigs in a anti-meat documentary once. 

"Cross any of these people, you kill them," Rick told you all as you moved through the room. "Don't hesitate." 

"They won't," you agreed, watching Daryl and Merle snag whatever they thought they could use for weapons from the tables. Merle grabbed a long bladed knife from one table, then flashed you a grin. He ripped his shirt in half, and you stepped over and helped him strap the knife to his metal stump with the shirt. 

"Ya a'ight, little sister?" he asked quietly. "Asshole hurt you any?" 

You just gave him a small smile. "I'm good. Let's kick some ass, huh?" 

 

You and Rick leaned on either side of an open doorway. There were four walkers visible, crowded around a storage container. 

There was screaming coming from inside. 

"If we run, we can get by them," Rick said. 

"We've got to let those people out," Glenn's voice came from your shoulder, and you glanced at him. 

You and Rick exchanged a long look before Rick looked at Glenn. He was about to say no, you could see it in his eyes; and frankly, you agreed with him. 

But Glenn, God bless him, thought differently. "That's still who we are," Glenn insisted. "It's got to be." 

Rick gave him the smallest of nods, and you sighed a little. You really, really thought that was the wrong call. 

More walkers were moving behind the storage container, and you were fucking curious what the hell had been happening outside Terminus for it to be like this inside. 

Rick threw open the door and Daryl went out first, you and Rick immediately after him. 

All five of you hit the walkers together, borrowed and makeshift weapons- did Merle have a piece of pipe in his hand? Holy shit- making short work of the walkers around the container. 

Glenn went for the doors immediately, Rick at his back. You exchanged a look with Daryl and Merle, and then the three of you were back to back, scanning the area for walkers or any other threat while your friends did what they needed to. 

Daryl and Merle managed to put you to the inside, facing Glenn and Rick and the storage container, under some misguided impression it'd be safer than any external threats. So you got a front row seat to the crazy-ass dude with face tattoos running straight at Glenn. You almost broke ranks, but Rick had it under control. He shoved the guy back, and Face Tattoos was laughing while you stared. 

Then the walker came like a linebacker, taking the guy down as it fell forward into him. 

Rick grabbed Glenn and shoved him forward, and you and the Dixons were right behind them.


	40. Walker Blood Is the New Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Except for one problem: the fuckin' horde. 

There were walkers every-which-goddamn-where. 

Merle suggested doubling back, and Rick was arguing that you wouldn't know where you were if you did that. 

"We don't really have much of a choice, do we?" Daryl muttered. 

You were watching the walkers as they argued, trying not to wonder what had happened to the rest of your group while you guys were busy being almost-bacon. 

Then someone started shooting the walkers. 

"Wait here," you tossed over your shoulder, ducking out from behind the storage container and making a rapid dash over to an abandoned car. You snuck behind it, angling for both cover and a sight line. 

The conveniently broken-off side mirror was perfect. They were obviously Terminus people, walking forward in a calm, controlled formation, mowing down every walker in their path. You shifted again, trying to get back out of their view, when the walker came at you from completely out of the blue. 

Fucker was quiet, too, his mouth inches from your arm before you even knew he was there. 

Then Daryl came leaping at him, spiking his skull with Merle's crowbar in some crazy flying ninja move you'd have to remember to tell him later was damn sexy. 

He gave you a hard glare, and you just flashed him a grin as he settled beside you. You waited as the Terminus crew moved past your hiding place, hoping, hoping.... 

Perfect. 

There was one lone guy, a bit behind the others, and you sprang from your hiding place, sunk your knife in his neck, and pulled his assault rifle from his hands. 

Then you took out the Terminus people, before they even turned around. You pulled a handgun from your victim's belt, nodded to Daryl's slightly stunned expression, and dashed back to your friends. 

"We're gonna have to double back," you said mildly to Rick as you handed him the assault rifle. You'd gotten a glimpse at the crowd of walkers coming up from the route you'd been planning to take, and even with a couple of guns it was pointless. You tried to pass Daryl the handgun- you'd always been better with knives- but he just glared at you. 

Guess this baby was yours, then. Sweet. 

Daryl gave you that look, the one that said either 'we're gonna fight later' or 'I'm gonna screw your brains out later', and to be honest, either sounded good. You just blew him a kiss and took off behind Rick. 

Hell, fighting was just foreplay for the two of you anyway. 

And that ninja save really had been hot.

 

You made it back, somehow. 

You and Rick were pretty soaked in walker blood, and the other three didn't look so great either. But somehow it was always you and Rick who got just fuckin' bathed in the stuff, every time. 

The fact that you'd dropped quite a few living on the way didn't help either. 

You'd run into another roving patrol like the ones you'd taken down with the gun, but you and Rick had gotten separated from the others by a band of walkers. While Daryl, Merle, and Glenn badassed their way through the fifteen or so dead- and yes, you'd watched for a minute as Daryl and Merle turned into the two-man army you'd come to know and love on the road- you and Rick had had your hands full with the oncoming living. 

There'd been five of them, and they were coming right at you. 

Walkers were everywhere, smoke was in the air, bullets were flying, and you'd had plenty of cover up until this stretch, and of course, of course, that's where these assholes found you. 

You'd had the gun in one hand and the stolen machete in the other, and you'd shrugged at Rick. 

You'd added a cut to your face that would probably give you a nice scar along your right cheek, dodged a bullet a little too close for your comfort, and that rib you'd broken last year was screaming bloody murder at you after one of the guys had gotten in a lucky hit on your side. 

But hot damn, you were getting better at taking on the living. 

Maybe that wasn't something you should have been proud of, but you damn well were. 

 

Now Rick was pulling open the door to the train car while you, Daryl, Merle, and Glenn were keeping the fucking stream of walkers at bay. 

"Come on! Fight to the fence!" Rick's voice called over the den. 

And then there was more running, more fighting- 

You fell into place with your Dixon boys, taking the lead and clearing the path for the others to follow. Daryl darted forward, swinging the long pipe like a baseball bat; stabbing the sharp end through another's brain. Then you ran in while his back was turned, your knife sliding home under a walker chin. You kicked it back into the next one as Merle whirled beside you, makeshift sword arm lashing out and taking off half a walker's head. 

Goddamn, this felt good. This felt right. 

This felt better than you'd felt since before your home was destroyed. You were on top of things, the three of you not needing anything to communicate- no words, no gestures, no looks. You just knew where they'd be, trusted them to watch your back, and you sure as fucking hell watched theirs. 

 

And you were at the fence, stabbing through it to drop a walker through the links. 

"Come on, guys, up and over!" you yelled to your approaching group, Daryl and Merle holding ground to either side while you grabbed G.I. Jane- Rosita- and boosted her over. Next went Mullet, the most important man in the goddamn world, apparently, and Big Red hauled himself up after you. 

"Carl!" you called, and Michonne shoved him toward you. He scowled, but went over, and then Sasha and Bob and Maggie and Glenn and Michonne- 

Good, good, that just left the four of you, and-

"Goddamn it, Rick, let's move!" you screamed to him. He was standing back from the fence, shooting at the roof, and you saw Gareth and another guy leaping for cover. "Son of a bitch," you muttered, and ran forward as a walker closed on Rick. 

You jumped for the thing, clinging to its back and causing it to stagger, and you sunk the machete straight down into its skull just as Rick turned. 

"YN! Rick! Come on!" Daryl gestured as you dropped from the walker and grabbed Rick, shoving him ahead of you. 

"Up and over, Cowboy," you grunted, and he went. 

"Merle," you snapped, but he snorted behind you. 

"Just get ya ass over the damn fence, girlie!" 

There wasn't time to argue, what with the walkers closing in, so you scrambled over; dropping down and rolling with the momentum. By the time you were on your feet, Daryl was dropping down behind you, and then you were just waiting on- 

"Merle!" you screamed, when long moments passed and he didn't appear. 

You started toward the fence, but Daryl grabbed you, pulling you back against his chest. 

"No! Damn it, woman, no!" he was hissing as you fought him, and you heard the fear and pain in his voice, but this was Merle.

It was Merle, you had to go- 

"What the hell you people waitin' on? Let's move, damn it!" 

You'd never been so happy to hear that asshole's voice. He slid over the fence like he did shit like that all the time, and you sagged in Daryl's arms, relief sapping all your strength for a moment. He held you up, leaning his head to your shoulder, and you knew he felt the same. 

"Merle Dixon, you better not do that to us again," you growled to him as he reached the two of you, and he just flashed you that shit-eating grin and clapped Daryl on the back as he went past. 

You and Daryl flipped him off together, perfectly in sync, and Merle's raucous laugh filled the woods for a minute.


	41. No Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> miscarriage/ pregnancy loss

You led the way, Daryl and Rick at your sides. You were watching the trees, looking for where Rick had left the bag and the shovel. 

You wanted that damn compound bow. It wasn't yours; wasn't the one you'd stolen from a sporting goods store in Atlanta as you'd left your old life behind and the dead started to rise, but a bow was better than no bow. 

You didn't like the guns. Too loud. And you would need to be able to hunt. 

Daryl would just have to ask nicely if he wanted to borrow it. 

"Here," you said, gesturing to one of the trees, and Rick nodded. 

Bless his Cowboy heart, man couldn't find much of anything in the woods. He'd been the one to hide the fucking thing and he'd still needed you and Daryl to get him back to it. 

"What the hell are we still around here for?" Big Red called as Rick started digging. 

You should reserve judgement; you knew that, but you didn't like him much right now. He was too single-minded, too determined to move forward at any cost. Hopefully he'd mellow the hell out some. 

"Guns, some supplies. Go along the fences. Use the rifles," Rick's words came out rhythmically, punctuated by the digging, and he didn't see the looks the group was shooting each other. "Take out the rest of 'em." 

"What?" Glenn asked, and Rick looked up to him.   
"They don't get to live," he pronounced solemnly, and you squirmed a bit. 

You got it; you did. You'd almost become people chow; almost been given long pig to eat for yourselves. You'd been threatened, kicked around, watched some people die. You wanted them all dead to. 

But your people's safety came first.

"Look, Cowboy, I mean- do you see that place? It's in flames and overrun. It ain't gonna be the same again, and if any of them are still alive in there, it won't be for long. We should probably just get the fuck out of here while we still can." You hesitated to say it, what with the mood Rick was in these days and all- anytime he got all dramatic like that, shit was gonna go down- but you'd made the man a promise to tell him if you thought he was making the wrong call. 

Loudly, and possibly violently. 

"Rick, we got out. It's over," Glenn agreed with you. 

"It's not over till they're all dead," Rick disagreed, pulling his revolver from the bag. 

People were chiming in around you as he stood, stubborn look in his eyes and his jaw set, and you ignored them. You stepped up, putting yourself right in his path, and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

"Cowboy. Loudly, and possibly violently," was all you said, hoping he'd remember your conversation and its significance. His jaw twitched as he looked into your eyes. 

You didn't think that was going to be enough, but then you caught the movement behind him.

 

It was Merle who reached her first, Daryl close on his heels and you and Rick only seconds behind him. 

Merle who wrapped her in a tight hug, his hand on the back of her head, and you caught the look in his eyes as he let her go. 

That man was so far gone, and he didn't even know what had hit him. 

As Daryl took his place, grabbing Carol from his brother's arms in a hug of his own, you just leaned against a tree and watched them, grinning. 

The rest of the group came up behind you, and you could see the smiles and the joy on your people's faces; the confusion on Tara and Big Red's. 

To be fair, one woman walking out of the woods with walker innards smeared all over a poncho and her face, hair sticking up everywhere and armed to the teeth was a bit of a shock, and the normally stoic Dixon brothers practically attacking her with hugs made it even more surprising.

Merle caught your eye, standing slightly apart, his hand braced on a tree and his back to everyone. 

You moved over to him as Rick made Daryl let go of Carol and hugged her instead, and you stepped around to face him. There were tears on his cheeks, and he turned his face away from you when you saw. You didn't speak, just put a hand on his shoulder and when he didn't pull away, you stepped in to wrap your arms around him. 

He hesitated for a minute, then let go of the tree and leaned on you instead. 

"It's ok, big brother," you whispered to him, and he chuckled a little. "She's ok." 

He held on just for a moment, then let go as Rick's voice broke the silence behind you. 

"Did you do that?" His voice cracked and broke a little, and you knew the guilt he had to be feeling. 

You and Merle turned back to the group, going to Daryl's side. His hand groped for yours, and you held on tightly, your own eyes just a full as his and Merle's. 

Carol was a member of your special little club, the people-with-bad-pasts club, and while you weren't as close with her as either of the Dixon brothers were, you loved her dearly just the same. And you'd been there when Rick said she had to go; you'd last spoken to her in anger when she'd told you something you needed to know; and you'd not argued when Rick drove away, even knowing what it'd do to your men. What it could mean for her. 

Maybe you had some guilt there, too. 

Carol just nodded, her own emotions written all over her face, and you smiled even as the first of your own tears slipped from your eyes. 

"Rick," she said quietly. "You have to come with me." 

You did, your people crowding around her, Merle so close to her side that his arm or shoulder or hand brushed hers with practically every step. You held on to Daryl, and you and Rick exchanged some shared guilty looks, but no one said anything as she moved through the woods determinedly. 

Then you were there, and there was a little shack, and coming out of it was- 

No. 

Rick dropped everything and ran, Carl only half a step behind him, and you just froze, hands coming to your mouth as you watched them fall to the ground together, Judith between them. 

There wasn't a damn dry eye in the group as they held each other and that sweet baby girl and cried. 

Sasha and Tyreese were pretty emotional, too, and you were suddenly laughing and crying at the same time, because holy shit, you'd never expected this. You'd never expected the miracle that was Judith being alive, and Tyreese and Carol were just an added bonus of unexpected joy. 

And then Rick and Tyreese were doing that manly shoulder grab thing, a conversation in just a touch, and it hit you. 

It just fucking hit you all over again. 

You turned to Daryl and he was looking at you and the same thing was in his face, the same grief you wondered if you'd ever get over, either of you. You started to turn away, knowing it was your fault that grief was in his eyes too. 

You couldn't bear that. You deserved your own; it was your price to pay for being foolish and selfish and putting yourself, your baby, in danger like that. 

But he didn't deserve it. He'd done nothing. He'd only ever tried to keep you safe, you and the baby, and this was what he got for it- 

You were turning away, folding in on yourself, but he wouldn't let you. 

He was there, arms around you, before you knew he'd moved. He pulled you into him and wrapped himself around you, so it was just you, just the two of you, holding each other up as you both cried. 

Some tiny part of you whispered that this was how it was supposed to be- both of you supporting each other, as you clung to him as hard as he clung to you. You tried not to listen, tried to push that aside, because you knew better. You knew it was your fault. 

But your damn treacherous brain kept whispering, and that whisper sounded a lot like Daryl, telling you that was wrong. That it wasn't your fault, that it might always hurt but it would be ok eventually. 

That he didn't hate you or blame you or anything like that; that he just loved you, and was glad you were alive and here and in his arms, and that was all that mattered. 

 

After the tearful reunions came the making-plans stage. 

"I don't know if the fire's still burning," Rick said, worry in his voice as he looked at the column of greasy grey smoke. 

"It is," Carol answered as her eyes met yours. There was something there, you knew. Something she'd done along the road that haunted her. 

You hadn't had a chance to speak to her yet, but from the look of sorrow she gave you, you knew someone had filled her in on the baby, at least. You smiled softly at her, and she smiled back, something like relief passing over her face. 

Had she been worried about how you were going to feel about her? 

"We should get going," Rick said finally. 

"Yeah, but where?" Daryl asked, and you hummed agreement from under his arm. 

"Somewhere far away from there," Merle muttered. 

You saw Abraham and Rosita exchanging a significant look, and Big Red glanced over at Rick before murmuring something to her. You were pretty certain he was going to keep trying to recruit your people into heading for DC. 

Nothing really got decided, of course, but your group moved out anyway, heading through the woods and toward the tracks for lack of any better ideas. 

You were watching Carl, cradling Judith against him as he walked with Michonne. He caught your eye and gave you a brilliant grin, and you smiled back even as your heart hurt. 

Maggie and Glenn held hands as they walked, and Tyreese and Sasha and Bob were a tight trio, speaking softly as well. 

Daryl had his arm around your shoulders, and you leaned into him a little as the two of you brought up the rear of your column. You stopped when Rick did, considering your leader as he stared at the sign for a moment. 

When he used mud to cover the message and add a single word, you smiled. 

No Sanctuary.


	42. That Was Probably Supposed to Be A Pep Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> miscarriage/ pregnancy loss  
> mentions of child death   
> Carol talks about Mika and Lizzy in this chapter; that shit was crazy just warn yourselves

Carol and Merle were freakin' adorable. Merle was head over heels and you knew it and from the looks of things, Carol knew it, but he didn't know what to do with it. 

You wondered if he'd ever been in love before. 

He hovered, mostly, at her side. They'd talk sometimes, sometimes not, and he just kept looking at her like she'd hung the sun. 

To be fair, she'd single-handedly taken down an entire fortified and organized community. She was kind of a boss. 

She'd filled you all in on what she did- blowing up the gas tank, coming in with the walkers, killing everyone in sight. She'd been too distracted at first, but after reuniting with Tyreese and Judith, she'd produced not only Daryl's crossbow, but your compound bow as well. 

That had been enough to earn her your undying gratitude, and you'd passed the Claimer compound bow off to an interested-looking Tara with the promise of a lesson whenever you had the chance. Then Carol had just added to her hat trick of skills, handing Rick the watch he'd given Creepy Smile Sam the day you'd left Carol behind. 

She'd come to you later, falling into step beside you as you marched, and Daryl had kissed your forehead and jogged over to join his brother, leaving the two of you to talk. 

"I'm sorry, Carol," you'd blurted before she could say anything. 

"What are you sorry for?" she'd asked, looking bewildered. 

"Leaving you. Not arguing with Rick. The way I was when you told me the Governor was alive." You said the last one without stuttering over his name, calmly and clearly, and you were desperately pleased with yourself. 

After everything that'd happened, maybe that part of your story was finally, finally over. 

"Please," she dismissed you with a wave of one hand. "Water, bridges. Rick was going to do what Rick was going to do. We both know there's no arguing with him when he makes that face." She imitated the face she meant and you let out a watery laugh. 

"Still," you said. "I could have tried. And the last thing I said to you-" you broke off as you teared up for real. 

You lying bitch, you'd said to her, voice hard but utterly, impossibly calm. Get bit and die. 

She was shaking her head at you again, putting a hand on your arm and stopping you. You saw Daryl glance back and he and Merle stopped as well, keeping you in their sights but giving you privacy still. 

Overprotective Dixons, you thought with a slight smile and a sigh. 

"YN, we lied to you. For months. About something that could have gotten you killed or worse. We knew he could have been out there still, even if we'd thought- hoped- he was dead, and we let you go unprepared. Alone, even. I earned it," she'd said softly. "I'd earned being banished, earned your condemnation." 

She looked away from you. "I wish I could say I'd make different decisions," she said softly. "But I don't know that I would. Even with everything, I don't know that I would. And for that, too, I'm sorry." 

You let out a long sigh. "Don't be. I understand it, Carol. I hate it, but I understand it. There's nothing I wouldn't do for them either," you added with a nod toward the crowd walking away. 

She'd smiled at you slightly, and the two of you had started walking again together. You'd made a face as Daryl and Merle had started moving when you did. 

"They're rather protective, aren't they?" Carol had said, amused. 

"Yeah," you'd agreed, but you could hear the fondness in your own voice. "God knows I've given Dixon enough reason. First the Governor, then the baby. Then the Governor again. Losing the baby. Getting separated and nearly killed by the Claimer assholes. The people-eaters in there-" You broke off with a snort. "I'm kind of amazed he lets go of me at all at this point."

"My my, you have been busy," Carol said wryly. "He respects you too much to try to keep you contained," she added after a moment. "He knows you need your freedom. He doesn't blame you, you know." 

Her voice changed as she slipped that last in there, and you shot her a look. She was watching your face steadily, and you grimaced. 

"I know. I do know. I just don't know why he doesn't," you answered honestly. "I blame me. I was so hell bent on getting rid of the asshole, I was ready to die. I'd decided I was going to kill him even if it took me out to do it. I was going to keep Rick alive, get revenge, and maybe save everyone else in the process. I didn't care what happened to me. I didn't even- I didn't even think about the baby," you admitted, shame cutting through you sharper than Michonne's sword could have. 

Carol stayed silent, just listening to you rant. Letting you get out some of the stuff you hadn't been able to speak to anyone yet. 

"I got his baby killed," you whispered. "And he wanted it, so badly. He was ready to be a father, totally and completely on board, and he would have been an amazing one. I was the one who didn't want to have a baby in this world. I thought it was too great a risk."

"You were right," she said firmly, and you looked at her in surprise. "Daryl will be the perfect father; you're right," she continued. "But this world? It's not right for children. Carl is a wonderful kid, but he will always be shaped by the brutality we've experienced. Judith will be worse. She'll grow up cold and hard, unless we can find somewhere that's truly safe. Lizzy killed her sister," she said abruptly. 

"Who? Did what?" you asked, not having a clue who Lizzy was. 

"One of the girls I was supposed to take care of. Tyreese got them and Judith out, and I found them on the road. Lizzy was the one feeding the walkers at the prison. She thought they were friends; people. They were just different. She killed Mika, her little sister, and would have killed Judith just so Tyreese and I would see." 

What the hell? What the absolute bloody fucking hell? 

You were staring at Carol, eyes wide as she told you the story. 

"So I killed Lizzy. That's three children I've lost now," she said flatly. "This world is not for kids. We have to fix it first." 

She turned to you with a smile. "So we will. Then you and Daryl will try again."


	43. The Dead Are Easier Than the Living

You made camp. Daryl shoved you down to sit when you'd tried to help, pointing at the ground and glaring until you gave up and raised your hands in surrender. You'd taken a hard hit to the head, your side was a massive bruise with the rib you'd broken the year before possibly cracked again, and the cut on your cheek hadn't been tended to yet, because you didn't really have anything to tend to it with. 

In short, you were tired and a little battered, and no one was going to fault you for taking a breather. Except, of course, yourself. 

You did it anyway, because the worry in Daryl's eyes made your heart ache, and this little thing was easy enough to give him. God knows, you didn't let him protect you nearly enough, and you'd determined to give him what you could. 

Given the number of times the two of you threw yourselves in the middle of heart-pounding danger, letting each other fuss when you could seemed only fair. 

He and Merle disappeared together into the woods after walker traps were set and a small fire was coaxed. You'd watched them leave, your chest tightening in fear as they did. 

It'd barely been three days since you'd found Daryl again- or he'd found you; you honestly weren't sure which- and most of those days had been spent in all that heart-pounding danger you'd been thinking about earlier. You'd hardly spent any time with each other than involved actual exchanges of words, and you missed him. Desperately, achingly, deeply. 

And he was leaving you now. 

In your head, you knew you were being ridiculous. For God's sake, these people needed to eat, they depended on the three of you for that more than anyone else. They needed to go hunt. 

But you needed him here. 

You'd almost decided to go after them when Carl plopped down beside you, Judith burbling in his arms. 

"On the road again," he said to you with a dry grin, and you smiled faintly back at him. You reached out and bopped Judith's nose, making her smile. 

"Guess we should find some beans, for old time's sake," Carl added, and this time you laughed, just once. 

"Success!" he said, grin getting wider, and you shot him a look. "I told Dad I could make you laugh. You looked all serious over here. Figured you were pissed about being told to sit and stay." 

You glanced over to where Rick was talking to Ponytails, and he was looking at you with a smile. You made a face at him and he rolled his eyes back. Tara glanced between the two of you, frowning slightly. 

Whatever. Your easy relationship with the men in your group had been confusing new people for awhile, but they'd get used to it. 

"You know me too well, kid," you told Carl now, your eyes scanning the woods around your group anxiously. 

"Hey. YN. They'll be back in a minute. You need to take a breather. I heard some of what it was like inside Terminus," Carl said seriously, and you looked back at him. "You got hurt some, and you killed people. You had to, but that doesn't mean it was easy. Just take the rest. Daryl and Merle will be back soon. I'll sit with you until they get back, if you want." 

You wrapped an arm around Carl's shoulders gratefully. He shifted Judith and leaned into your side a little, and you started playing peekaboo with the baby around Carl's hat. 

Damn you loved this kid.

 

Carl sat with you, like he'd said, and he kept you laughing and distracted until Daryl and Merle came back, a few hours later. They were hailed like returning kings since they came with three rabbits, two squirrels, and a handful of fresh blackberries for Judith. 

Dinner was quiet, you and Daryl sitting off a bit from the crowd around the fire. You'd volunteered to take first watch, and Rick had nodded his agreement. Now everyone was sorting themselves out for the night, and you and Daryl moved back even more so you could keep a clear watch all around the camp. 

You sat in silence for a bit, the kind of silence you always found so innately comfortable. His hand rested on your thigh, your arm looped around his and your fingers gripping his forearm a little. You leaned into his shoulder, and suddenly you were remembering leaning on his shoulder for the first time, what felt like a lifetime ago. 

 

His truck was the last of the caravan, the vehicles stretched along the road in front of you as you drove into the late afternoon. 

"Gonna be a few more hours," Dixon muttered, and you grunted at him. 

That was it for a while, and you found yourself drowsing in the seat, your feet out the window. The air rushed in from both sides, still hot and strong with Georgia summer heat; noise making most conversation pointless, even if either of you had been inclined to talk much. 

After about a week of travel, you'd figured out that Dixon here enjoyed conversation even less than you did. That was fine by you, and most of the hours of travel were spent in this same easy silence. 

It wasn't awkward like it could have been. Just comfortable. 

You guessed comfort came pretty quickly when you spent nearly every waking moment with someone. You shared the truck during the day, hunted together most evenings when Rick made you stop, and slept in the tiny tent together for at least a few hours each night. He'd wake you up from a nightmare at least once, and you'd woken up because of his restlessness a few times yourself. 

You'd noticed quickly the man didn't sleep much. 

To be fair, neither did you. 

Which was probably why you found yourself drifting in and out of sleep now, never quite asleep but not really awake either. 

"Gonna sleep, better lean on the door. Cain't drive with ya on my arm." 

Dixon's voice jerked you out of your half-slumber and you shot upright abruptly, having realized you'd been leaning on his shoulder. 

"Sorry," you muttered to him, rubbing at your eyes as you pulled your feet from the window. 

"Ain't nothin'. Go to sleep; just lay on the window. Gotta be ready to move if we gotta stop." He'd jerked his head toward the passenger door and you shifted around until you leaned against the frame so the wind blew across your face. 

It was more words than he usually said, and more than were needed, you mussed as you drifted back off. He'd explained himself instead of just telling you what he wanted you to do. 

Almost as if he cared what you thought about why he'd made you move. 

 

"What happened with Beth?" you whispered finally, breaking the silence. 

Daryl didn't tell you to move from his shoulder these days, and that was lovely. But the easy silence hadn't felt so easy, either, and you missed the closeness. The simplicity of life then, not that you'd thought it simple at the time. 

But that was before everything, it seemed. Before the CDC and learning everybody turned. Before the farm and Sophia and the months of hunger and the prison and the Governor and the baby; before the goddamn cannibals.

You missed the simple problems: how to fight the dead, not how to protect against the living. 

"I don't- It's my fault," he whispered back. "I don't wanna talk about her." 

You nodded. "Ok then." 

After a moment, you lifted your head from his shoulder and unwound your arm from his. You hated the sting of hurt you were feeling, the sudden and unexpected rise of anger and pain, but you couldn't stop it. 

"Why don't you go get some sleep?" you told him, jerking your head toward the fire as you rose. "I told Rick I'd watch. Gonna do a quick walk around, check the traps." 

He stayed where he was, and you moved away after a beat when he stayed silent.


	44. We're Going to Get Her Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
> mentions of suicidal thoughts/behavior

You hadn't gone far when he grabbed your arm. You'd been almost noiseless through the woods, and you prided yourself on it, but he was a damn shadow in the dark, sneaking behind you without your even knowing it. 

You had your knife to his throat before you saw who it was, and you dropped it with a curse. 

"Damn it, Dixon, what the hell! You tryin' to get yourself killed?" you snapped at him as you shoved your knife back into its sheath. 

"That how it is now, YN?" he growled, and you turned to face him. 

"What the hell you talkin' about, Dixon?" 

"I say I don't wanna talk about somethin', you tell me to go? Since when's it ever been like that between us?" he snapped back, and under the irritation that filled his voice, you caught a hint of bewildered hurt. 

That pissed you off more, for some reason. 

"You didn't say you didn't want to talk about something, Daryl," you spat at him, not really knowing what you were saying or feeling. "You said you didn't want to talk about her." 

He just looked at you, uncomprehending, and you jerked your arm out of his. 

"Forget it," you muttered, suddenly exhausted. "Just tired. I'm not telling you to go, just suggesting you rest while you can. One of us ought to." You tried a smile, but it felt fake on your lips. 

"No," he growled as you started to walk away. 

"What?" 

"No. I ain't gonna forget about it. You got somethin' to say, say it." 

Oh yeah, he was pissed. 

Too damn bad, because so were you. 

"What happened with Beth, Daryl Dixon?" You asked the question again, keeping your back to him. You gripped your bow tightly, running your fingers over the string in a nervous habit. 

You weren't jealous. You weren't. The two of you weren't like that with each other. 

You valued friendships with the opposite sex. Women needed good male friends, and men needed close female friends, and neither of you had begrudged the others friendships since the moment you met. 

He just wasn't talking about it. About her. And the pain in his voice and his face when she was mentioned-

He cared about everyone in your family. He'd cared about everyone in the prison, every single resident. He'd known more of them better than you had, remembering faces and names better than you'd have expected from him. 

He'd have mourned the loss of any one of them, and you knew it. It was just that he was taking Beth's absence so damn hard. 

And you still didn't know what 'she's just gone' meant. 

You heard him move this time, and that pissed you off even more, because you knew he did it on purpose, so you'd know where he was since he was behind you. He touched your shoulder, asking you without words to turn around, to look at him, but you didn't. After a minute, he let his hand fall, but he didn't move away. 

"She's gone and it's my fault. What else is there to say?" he asked harshly, and you tossed up your hands in frustration, finally whirling around. 

"That's what I mean! I don't have any fuckin' idea what that means!" you shot back exasperatedly. "She gone. What's gone? And you're just- you're taking it so damn hard! You should see your face when anyone mentions her name. It's like your heart breaks every time you think of her!" 

Something moved in his eyes, and you could have sworn you saw his lips turn up in the ghost of a smile. Not his smile, his real smile, but something like Merle's asshole grin, the one he used when his guard was up and he was trying to piss someone off to distract from himself. 

On Daryl, it just looked cruel.

"Ya jealous or somethin'?" he asked, and you felt your teeth grinding together. 

He'd have to do better than that.

"Stop deflecting," you snapped at him, holding on to your temper by a fine edge. This wasn't the place, nor were you in the mood for a full-scale raging, screaming Dixon discussion. 

But hell if it didn't seem like he was trying to push every one of your freaking buttons. 

"It's not that, and you know it. I know you cared about her. I know you were friends, and I know that getting out together had to have been traumatic as hell," you said sharply, keeping your voice low. 

He had the grace to look a ashamed, and you sighed and took a tiny step toward him.

"I was alone, Daryl. I got out alone, and I thought all of you- everyone I loved and cared about- were dead. Our baby was dead, and I blamed myself. I thought you were dead, and I blamed myself. I drank myself to passing out with a sea of the dead moving below me, and I would have just stayed in that tree and died from lack of will to do otherwise if Merle hadn't found me." Your eyes had filled with tears as you spoke, remembering that black despair. 

Daryl's hand reached for you but dropped, and he wasn't looking at you anymore. "I'm sorry, woman," he whispered harshly. 

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Daryl," you said seriously. "I just want you to talk to me. I want to help. I missed the hell out of you, Dixon." 

He started crying at your last sentence, he shoulders shaking as he started to turn away from you. This time you went to him, catching his arm and pulling him into you. He grabbed you like a lifeline, and you held him tight. 

"I couldn't- I tried to get to ya. I tried, YN. I took out the damn tank. Killed the asshole drivin' it. Merle and me, we were comin' for you'n Rick. Then I lost track of Merle, and the dead were everywhere. Thought I was toast, but the Beth comes running out from nowhere, clears me a path and was screamin' at me about how we gotta leave." 

He shuddered in your arms, grabbing a handful of your shirt at the small of your back and holding on tightly. His voice was muffled by your neck as he spoke. 

"She made me leave, and I- I hated her. I was tryin' to get to you, but she wouldn't let me. I hated her for the first few days, but I needed her, too. Without her, I'd have given up. We were tryin' to circle back, check the supply drops and shit like we'd always planned, but we kept gettin' blocked at every turn. She kept me goin'. Kept tellin' me when it was a suicide mission to push forward; that we'd find away around and get to you, but I wouldn't do you any good if I was dead." 

He pushed away from you a little, to pace small steps without ever really leaving your side. You were barely breathing, tears streaming as you listened to the pain in his words. 

"She told me I's gonna be the last man standing someday. Then she was gone, and I- I thought she was right. It was like when she was gone, I couldn't pretend I believed no more, and I knew you were dead." He was quiet so long you thought that was all he would say. Just when you were about to move or speak or something, you didn't know what, he drew in a harsh breath and started again. 

"We were holed up in this mausoleum. I used a coffin as a bed one night. Pretty comfortable," he said with a shrug when you huffed out a half-laugh. "Walkers came. She'd twisted her leg doin' somethin' stupid, and there were too many of 'em. I told her to run, I'd lead them off a bit and join her." 

He reached blindly for your hand, and you held on tightly. "She was gone when I got there. Her pack was on the ground, and there was this car. Dark, darkened windows, white cross on the back window. I chased it. I chased it all damn night, runnin' until I couldn't run any more. And when I couldn't keep goin'- Them Claimer assholes found me. I'd failed you, by not makin' sure the Governor was dead with my own eyes. Then I couldn't reach you, and I was failin' you every day again. And I failed her, too." His hand was shaking in yours, and you tugged at it gently. 

When he didn't budge, just standing there with his head bowed and whole body trembling, you closed the distance between the two of you yourself, wrapping your arms around him again. You pulled his head to your shoulder, threading your fingers into his hair, and slowly his arms came around you again. 

You knew he didn't want you to tell him it was ok. He didn't want you to say it wasn't his fault, because he wouldn't believe you if you did. So you whispered the one thing you knew might have any meaning to him. 

"We're going to get her back. I promise."


	45. Walking is Still Boring, Damn It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> some smutt-adjacent-ness

God there was so much walking. 

You walked, and walked, and walked some more. 

You bitched. You were woman enough to admit it. You bitched to Maggie, to Carol, to Merle, to Carl. 

You bitched to the open air. 

"Damn prison life make you soft, little sister?" Merle teased, and you'd flown at him, wasting energy the two of you didn't have to spare in a wrestling match that had Daryl and Carl taking bets, Rick yelling to break it up, and Carol and Maggie howling with laughter. 

You won, but you suspected it was because he let you win. Either way, you felt better. 

And then you walked some more. 

You taught Tara how to use the bow. She was shit in the woods hunting, but the walkers she could handle well enough, as long as she could go slowly and take her time. 

She'd come along with it fine, though, and you discovered you liked her immensely. 

The first time she'd taken down a biter with one hit, the two of you out in the woods trying to find some food while the rest of them kept fucking walking, she'd let out a triumphant yell, turned to you, and raised one hand for a fist bump, beaming from ear to ear. 

You'd laughed and obliged, then whipped your own bow up and fired twice in rapid succession, dropping the two that you'd been keeping an eye on while she handled the one. She'd stared from you to them, jaw slack, and then closed her mouth so hard you'd heard her teeth crack together. 

"Dude, you are badass," she'd said, and a faint blush had been on her cheeks as she went to pull her arrow from the walker. 

And then there was more of the eternal walking, but with things to do like teaching Tara the bow and attempting to get the girl any woods skills whatsoever, you bitched a little less. Everyone noticed, and Carl even told Tara one night not to get too good with the thing, so you'd have to keep helping her and not complaining.   
You'd scowled and thrown small sticks and pine cones at him from across the fire while he just laughed and tried to hide behind Michonne. 

 

You and Daryl had ranged out together the next day, looking for food. You'd been looking for several hours, moving soundlessly through the woods together, when he stopped abruptly in a clearing and looked at you. 

Oh, you knew that look. 

You'd dropped your bow as he started toward you slowly, reaching for him as soon as he was close. 

The two of you had come crashing together, and he'd lifted you into his arms while he kissed you hungrily. You'd wrapped your legs around his hips, and he'd backed you against a tree, and, well-

As his hands slid under your shirt and found your skin, his lips on your neck left a trail of heat that seemed to sink down inside you to warm a chill you hadn't realized had settled in your heart. You felt a little of the guilt and grief and cold fear that you'd lost or were losing him burn up in the fire he'd kindled between you with just that one look. 

You'd done a lot of talking the past few days- while you walked, while you were on watch together. You'd talked about the baby, the Governor. He'd given you details on the Claimers, his time with Beth, what had happened as the prison fell. You'd told him about thinking Merle was a hallucination. He'd groaned when he realized you'd told Merle about him hallucinating him back at the farm. You'd worked through some things, started the process on others. 

You hadn't realized how hard talking was; how limited speech could be. Not until the two of you were using something better. 

He held you against the tree, and every touch of his hands, his lips; every move of his body in and against you told you everything you needed to know. Gave you everything you needed. 

And when you were done, when you'd wrung everything you could from each other and were standing, gasping and grinning like idiots, you only needed to look in his eyes to know you'd told him everything he needed, too. He ran his fingers over your smiling lips before cupping your face in his hand. 

"I love ya, woman," he whispered, looking in your eyes. 

"I love you, Dixon," you whispered back, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

 

The two of you made your way back, Daryl dropping a few squirrels on the wayl; the only thing you'd seen the entire time you were gone. When you trudged up to the group, you were met with Rick, Carl, and Michonne's guns up and pointed at you. 

You made eye contact with Michonne, who started smirking at you instantly. 

"We surrender," Daryl said mildly, holding up the squirrels. 

"Shut up, Samurai," you hissed as you went past her. 

"Check your hair, Troublemaker," she hissed back, laughter dancing in her eyes. 

 

More walking.   
You and Daryl were getting uneasy now. There'd been things moving in the dark, things you couldn't find the source of. The two of you had spoken to Rick about it some, but there was nothing to go on other than your feelings of discomfort. 

Then Merle and Carol had heard something on watch, and Merle had come to talk to the two of you. 

Now you were walking with Rick when Daryl came through the woods to meet you. He'd been doing a check around the area where you'd camped last night. 

"No tracks. No nothing," he told the two of you. "If someone was watchin' us, there would have been something." 

Rick nodded, but turned and whistled to the group. "Keep close," he ordered, voice low. 

Big Red came up the side to join the head of your column. "Ready to get some concrete under your feet?" he asked Rick, flicking a glance at you and Daryl. 

Daryl just eyed him silently. 

"Think it's time," Rick agreed, looking at you, and you nodded. 

Big Red- Abraham- looked between the two of you. "That is sweet music to my ears, Officer. Take the next road we come to, try to get back to going north till we find a vehicle. Good?" 

"Good," you agreed, and he gave you that look again. 

"Pardon me if this is a question as will get me balls deep in some shit, but which of you people is actually in charge of this group?" he asked finally, looking between you and Rick. 

Daryl started chuckling. "If you figure that out, tell the rest of us. We've been wonderin' that since we found her." 

You rolled your eyes at him. "Ignore the peanut gallery," you told Abraham. "Rick's in charge. I just have opinions." 

"Yeah, and they're usually good ones," Rick drawled, patting you on the shoulder. 

Big Red just walked off, shaking his head and muttering about unclear chains of command. 

"Help! Help, anybody, help!"


	46. Never Joke About the Squirells

It was a man's voice, coming from the distance. Rick held up a hand instantly, drawing your group to a stop. 

"Dad, come on." It was Carl, his face concerned, determined that you'd help this one. "Come on!" 

He was going to take off on his own if Rick didn't agree, and you could see it in his eyes. You nodded to Rick, who clenched his jaw, but finally nodded back. 

Carl in the lead, you started hauling ass toward the source of the cries. 

 

It was a preacher, and boy was that a shock to you. 

No, really, white collar and all. An honest-to-God Catholic father, sitting on a rock screaming and trying to kick away a grand total of four walkers. 

Four. 

You stopped running in disgust, letting the others handle that nonsense. Tara stopped beside you, tilting her head to one side as she took in the scene. 

"What's he doing? There's only four of them," she asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion. She had the bow in her hands and an arrow on the string, but like you, she didn't bother moving to the fight. 

Hell, you'd barely call it a fight. 

"I don't know, Ponytails," you said, disgusted, as the priest threw up while talking to Rick. "I do not know." 

 

His name was Gabriel, and he had a church, and he was alone.

Or so he said. 

You were highly skeptical. Dude didn't carry any weapons. 

None. 

"Not even a goddamn knife," you muttered to Daryl as you walked to one side of Rick and Gabriel. "Who the hell doesn't even have a goddamn knife?" 

"I know," Daryl grunted back. "But shelter, woman. We need it, ya gotta admit." 

He tossed his head backward, and you looked over your shoulder to where Carl carried Judith. 

"Yeah, I know. Just don't trust him. He's creepy. His eyes aren't right," you grumbled, and Daryl just grunted. 

"'The Word of God is the only protection I need'," you muttered, shaking your head in disgust.

 

Gabriel was running his mouth as you walked. You weren't really listening- probably more creepy ass Bible thumping 'the Lord abhors violence' type shit. 

Who the hell hasn't killed any walkers? Who walks around without weapons? 

And you'd seen his face when Rick asked him what he'd done. There was something there- you'd seen it, Daryl'd seen it, Rick had seen it. Father Disturbing had tried to cover it up, but he sucked at it. 

He knew your people didn't trust him. Maybe that's why he was trying to ease the tension with a joke, but it fell totally flat and you were done with his mouth. 

"Or maybe I'm lying. Maybe there's no church ahead at all. Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal your squirrels." He looked over his shoulder with a smile, but froze when his nose bumped the tip of your aimed and drawn arrow. 

"YN," Rick said, and it was both amused and a warning. 

"Members of my flock have often told me that my sense of humor leaves much to be desired," he said hastily, taking in the expressions of the lead three. 

"Yeah, it does," Daryl put in bluntly.

"Seriously, dude," Tara put in behind you. "Don't joke about the squirrels." 

 

St. Sarah's Episcopal Church. 

Well, Father Disturbing had been telling the truth about something, at least. 

"Hold up," you snapped as the priest went to unlock the door. He gave you a concerned look, and Rick walked past him with a smirk. 

"We'll take a look around first. We just wanna hold on to our squirrels," he said, and you chuckled. 

Gabriel dropped the keys in Rick's hand, and you motioned him down the steps. You, Daryl, and Merle fell in behind Rick as he unlocked and swung open the doors. 

The others came in behind you- Michonne, Carol, Maggie, Glenn- and you realized with a smug feeling that your group was full of only the strong now. There weren't many of you who didn't kick ass and take names against the walkers and the living. You were survivors now. 

The sanctuary of the church was clear. There were closed doors on either side, and Rick stayed between them, covering both groups as you split up. The Dixons took one side, Michonne, Maggie, and Glenn took the other. Carol stepped back to cover you all with Rick, and a glance out the still-open door showed Tara, Sasha, Tyreese, Abraham, and Rosita covering Eugene, Carl with Judith, and Father Disturbing. 

Rick gave a nod to both your groups, and Merle threw the door on your side open as Michonne did the same across the way. 

Offices, bathroom, Sunday School room. 

After you'd cleared them, you joined Carol at the pulpit. There were six or seven Bibles, all open to the same page, and a notebook lying with them. 

Exodus, copied by hand, filled the pages of the notebook, with 'Thou Shalt Not Kill' written with capitalization and lager than the rest. 

Oh yeah, there had been some bullshit going down in this place, and you were going to figure it the fuck out. 

Your eyes lingered on Father Disturbing as Rick motioned the others from your group inside. 

 

You glanced at Daryl as he looked around the church with a slight sneer. You chuckled a bit as you remembered another church, in the woods with some of these same people and some people who were gone now. 

"What?" he asked, shooting you a look. 

"'Yo, J. C. You takin' requests?'" you muttered, and he grinned back at you, eyes lighting up at the memory. 

You were watching Rick look around, and you saw the lingering gaze he cast over the empty, lined-up cans. 

"I spent months without stepping outside," Gabriel said as you stood in the doorway and Rick went to check the woods and tell the rest of your people they could go in. "If you'd found someone inside- well, it would have been surprising." 

Carl smiled at the guy, but you just stared wordlessly. 

"We found a short bus out back," Big Red said to Rick. "It don't run, but I bet we could fix that in less than a day or two. Looks like we found ourselves some transport." 

"Now that we can take a breath-" Michonne began, but Big Red cut her off. 

"We take a breath, we slow down, shit inevitably goes down." 

"We need supplies no matter what we do next," you put in mildly. Rick seemed to be ignoring the brewing argument completely, stroking Judith's head while Carl looked between you, Abraham, and Michonne. 

"That's right," Rick put in finally. "Water, food, ammunition." 

He started back to the church, and you raised an eyebrow at him as he passed. He touched your shoulder, jerking his head inside, and your people followed him. 

"Short bus isn't going anywhere," you told Big Red as he scowled at you. "Bring you back some baked beans." 

You ducked inside the church, but overheard Glenn tell his friend, "One way or another, we're doing what Rick does. We're not splitting up again." 

You couldn't have agreed more.


	47. Now That's Living

Rick with his baby on his hip and his rifle in the other hand always made you grin. 

He and Gabriel were having a conversation about supplies that you weren't paying attention to, but Rick's sharp "How many?" had you tuning back in. 

"A dozen or so. Maybe more," Gabriel answered. 

Oh for shit's sake.

"A dozen?" you snorted. "Rick, I'll take it myself." 

Rick shot you a look. "Don't be an idiot. We'll take a group. Could be worse than he thinks." 

"Bob and I'll go," Sasha offered, and you glanced at her. She was one of your Council, but you hadn't really bonded all that much. Rick nodded. 

Tyreese was staying to watch the baby, and Gabriel offered to draw a map. 

"You're coming with us," you declared bluntly. 

"I'm not going to be of any help. You saw me. I'm no good around those things," he protested, terror in his eyes. 

You glanced at Rick, who gave one nod. 

"You're coming with us," you said again, and your tone shut Father Disturbing down. 

 

Sasha, Rick, Bob, Michonne, you and the preacher went. Daryl and Merle were going into the woods to hunt and find water; Maggie, Glenn, and Tara were going for ammunition, some gun store they'd looked up in the phone book. Daryl and Merle had both given you hard looks and instructions to be careful, and you'd done the same back to them.

Since your talk about Beth, you and Daryl had gotten back on an even keel. You trusted him to take care of himself and he trusted you to do the same, and neither of you tried to control the other's movements. You weren't all up in each other's business, and you at least were more relaxed and content when you were together- and apart- than you'd been since you'd realized you might be pregnant. 

Carl and Tyreese were in charge of Judith, and Abraham and his people were working on the bus. They were in a damn hurry to get to Washington, but your people were busy trying to survive. 

Bob tried to convince Rick that you were definitely going to join them, and you tuned everyone out as you walked. You just needed a minute in your own head. 

Of course, your minute didn't last long, and soon enough you were there, at the food bank Father Disturbing's church apparently collected donations for. 

A dozen walkers, and this guy called that 'overrun'. Please. 

You could handle a dozen walkers in your sleep. 

You let the others clear the first floor, hanging back and covering the exit route. Plus, keeping an eye on Gabriel. You gathered with them around the giant hole in the floor, where water had rotted the ceiling and the first floor, your nose wrinkled in pure disgust. 

"If a sewer could puke, this is what it'd smell like," Bob observed, and you laughed a little. 

There were walkers in the water, and you sighed a little. Water and walkers meant slimy, gross, decaying flesh, water logged and putrid- as opposed to just regular gross decaying flesh. It meant they fell apart more easily, were harder to get a grip on, and also- could disappear underwater and maybe get past your guard and take a chunk out of you. 

You so did not want to go down there. 

Rick had other ideas. 

"We can use the shelves to block them," Sasha said, and Rick smiled at her. 

"There's our way," he said, and that was the plan. 

Into the slimy, filthy water you were going. Damn it. 

 

Of course, nothing was ever easy, was it? 

You got them blocked off and started taking them out through the shelves, but Father Disturbing had himself a little freak out and forced you to rescue him. 

You handled it, but Bob gave you a scare in the process, and you were pissed, damn it. 

You'd screamed at Gabriel, calling him an idiot and a liability, until Rick had pulled you away and shoved you in the direction of all those cans of food. You weren't a thousand percent certain, but you might have threatened to cut one of the asshole's arms off and feed it to a walker in front of him if he ever put one of your people in danger like that again. 

Actually, yeah, that's exactly what you'd been saying when Rick intervened, and maybe that was why Bob had given you the 'aw shucks, didn't know you cared' look and Sasha had given you a nod of approval and a smile. It also explained why Gabriel was keeping another person between him and you at all times as you pushed rolling carts filled with food back to the church. 

"I'm sorry. I panicked," he told Rick nervously, shooting you a glance as you covered Rick while he pushed. 

"You knew her when she was alive?" Rick said bluntly, and the father didn't say anything. 

"Yeah, I get it," Rick growled after a moment. "You only tell your sins to God." 

The priest looked ashamed and let the two of you go on ahead of him. 

 

The best part about the trip- maybe the only good part, considering you were wet and covered in walker slime and pissed the hell off at Father Disturbing- was listening in on Rick and Michonne on the way back. Your Cowboy and your Samurai were damn cute, and they didn't even know it. 

As Michonne talked about her sword, how she'd found it and how she'd gotten good, Rick watched her, and you wished he could see the look on his face. 

"Stumbling around in three feet of slime for some peas and carrots, that's living," Michonne teased him with a grin, and you just wanted to scream at them to hurry up and kiss already. 

But you didn't, opting for a chuckle instead as she coaxed a smile from Rick that you only saw when he was talking to her. 

Boy was so far gone on her, and he probably hadn't even realized it yet.


	48. Food, Fuel, Refuge, Restart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> a hint of smut-like substance

You all feasted that night, dishing things from open cans and laughing as you ate your fill for the first time in ages. Flickering candlelight filled the church with a warm glow as you leaned against Daryl's chest and listened to your people laughing and happy. 

You'd thought you'd never have this again. Never get to watch those you loved enjoying each other. Maggie was beaming at Rick and Judith, and you remembered how she'd laughed and laughed at your last girl's night in the prison, over a bottle of truly disgusting wine Merle had brought back from a supply run. 

She'd been talking about how she and Glenn were thinking about trying for a baby, and you'd made a not-very-clever joke about how they'd been trying for awhile now, hadn't they, every chance they got? And Maggie, tipsy and probably more than halfway to truly drunk, had thought it was the funniest shit she'd ever heard, cracking up and unable to stop even when Beth had mumbled something while turning bright red. 

Thinking of Beth made the smile fall from your lips, and Big Red chose that moment to call out over the noise of your happy crew. 

"I'd like to propose a toast. I look around this room, and I see survivors. Each and every one of you has earned that title," he said seriously. 

"Hell yeah," Merle drawled lazily. Abraham looked at him, nodded, and raised his glass. 

"To the survivors." 

Everyone raised their glasses in return, yelling cheers and clinking glasses against each other's sloppily. 

"Ya know this crowd's gonna be tryin' to sack out here soon," Daryl whispered in your ear, and you smiled, leaning into him. "Wanna sneak off and claim one of those rooms with a door before the others do?" 

You tipped your head back against his shoulder and met his grinning eyes. "You askin' me if I wanna fool around some tonight, Dixon?" 

"Shut up, woman," he said, blushing a little, but he leaned in and kissed you hard. 

"Is that all you want to be?" Abraham's voice cut through, and you separated from Daryl reluctantly to give Big Red a look. He was still standing at the front of the room, and you knew he was gearing up for the big recruitment speech. 

Sure enough, you were right. 

"Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse and repeat? 'Cause you can do that. I mean, you got the strength. You got the skill. Thing is, for you people, for what you can do, that's just surrender." Big Red met and held your gaze, and you raised an eyebrow at him. He looked to Rick next, and Rick just fed Judith another bite of food while he waited for Abraham to continue. 

"We get Eugene to Washington and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again. And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip. Eugene, what's in DC?" 

Mullet cleared his throat. "Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this fubar magnitude." 

Man, you thought there was something weird with this guy, but you did enjoy the way he talked. 

"That means food, fuel, refuge. Restart," he finished, and Abraham smiled. 

"However this plays out, however long it takes for the reset button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you've been since this whole thing started. Come with us." Big red was speaking directly to Rick now, and you already knew Rick was going to say yes- in his own time. "Save the world for that little one. Save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there who don't got nothing left to do except survive." 

No one said anything when he finished, just looked around at each other and then at Rick. Rick chuckled a little as he took in your faces. Judith cooed in his arms, and Rick smiled at her. 

"I think she knows what I'm about to say. She's in. If she's in, I'm in. We're in." 

Everyone laughed with Rick, including you and Daryl, and there were smiles and cheers all around. Most of your group had wanted to go anyway; you'd seen it in their eyes and heard it around camp. No one was surprised Rick had agreed; the man was a former sheriff, after all. He was all about law and order. 

Rick caught your eye as he spoke quietly to Gabriel. You watched for a minute but couldn't hear. You were considering going over there to see what was up when Daryl stood, tugging your hand to pull you to your feet as well. 

"That's it. Don't care what they think," he muttered to you as he started toward the office, pulling you with him by your hand. "YN and I are takin' the office. Y'all better stay the hell out," he yelled to your group as he pulled open the door. 

"Dixon!" you laughed, shocked, as he pulled you inside. The sanctuary erupted with laughs and whistles and catcalls as he grabbed the door and pulled it closed, and the two of you were grinning at each other as you both stuck your arms back through at the last second, middle fingers up at the whole lot of them. 

"That's better," he growled as he slammed the door closed and backed you into it, hands on your hips. "Been missin' the privacy. Been missin' you." 

You kissed him for awhile, settling into something familiar that could still make your heart pound. After a bit, he leaned his head against the door beside you and just pulled you close. 

"What, the tree in the woods wasn't good enough for you?" you teased him gently, your fingers sliding under his vest and working the buttons on his shirt. When you had it undone far enough, you slipped your hands inside so you could rest them against the bare skin of his chest. 

"Naw," he muttered into your hair. "Tree's nice. This is better. Ain't just about sex, you know." 

"Yeah, I know," you agreed, laying your head on his shoulder with a sigh. "Sex is good too, though," you added after a beat, and he laughed. 

"That so? I can work with that." 

And he did. 

 

A few hours later, he moved away from you in the dark. 

"What's wrong?" you whispered, sitting up as he opened the door. 

"Nothin', woman. Just gonna take a piss, see if I need to take watch. Stay here; get some sleep," he whispered back. "I mean it." 

"Fine, you stubborn ass," you mumbled, laying down. "Love you." 

"Love ya, woman."


	49. Tainted Meat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

His absence when you woke up again didn't really bother you. You figured he'd either come back and gone out again, or it had been closer to morning than you'd realized and he had gotten drafted for watch duty. 

You'd slipped from the room, expecting to get some looks and teasing, and frankly, you were not disappointed. As soon as you stepped into the sanctuary of the church, Maggie let lose a wolf whistle that had you cringing and grabbing your knife before you realized what you'd done. 

Merle's raucous laughter at your reaction didn't help the blush that was heating up your cheeks. 

"I hate you both," you muttered, and that just made them- and everyone else in the church- laugh harder. 

You caught Gabriel's disapproving expression and wondered if that was because of you threatening him, or because of what you and Daryl had done in his church. 

Cause that sure hadn't been holy. And you were feeling pretty damn smug about it. 

"Come on now, honey," Merle drawled from where he perched on top of one of the pews. "I know you enjoyed yourself. Baby brother doesn't do nothin' halfway when it comes to you, darlin'." 

"God, Merle, I am begging you- please, please shut the hell up," you said, but his exaggerated eyebrow wiggling had you laughing along with the others. 

That was when Sasha, Tyreese, and Rick strode in, looking grim. Rick made his way to your side, turning the two of you so that your back was to the room. Everyone went silent, and you just looked at Rick, waiting. 

"Bob's missing," he said grimly, voice pitched low. 

Ok, that wasn't good; but that wasn't what had him looking at you like that. 

"So are Daryl and Carol," he added reluctantly. 

You were gone in an instant, blinking and finding yourself with your knife at Father Disturbing's throat. 

"Who are you working with?" you snarled at him, and he cowered back from you. 

You heard Rick's voice calling your name, and then Merle's raised in an argument, but you were too busy staring at Gabriel. 

"Who are you working with?" you screamed at him. 

When he still didn't respond, you shrugged and hauled him up by your grip on his shirt. 

"Fine. Merle, door," you snapped, but Merle was busy with Rick. To your surprise, it was Sasha who pushed open the door and held it for you. You tossed the priest down the steps to the ground and followed him at a walk, nodding your thanks to Sasha as you passed her. 

"I guess my warning didn't stick, did it?" you told the cowering priest coldly. "I'll give you one more chance. Where are my people? Who are you working with?" 

"I don't- I don't have anything to do with this. I don't have anything to do with this!" He stuttered out, over and over. 

You sighed. "Right or left arm?" 

He started to sob. 

"Ok. Left," you decided, and grabbed at his arm. He struggled, but you were better than him. 

You'd have done it, too; no question. 

"Whoa, hold up there, little sister," Merle's voice came, and he and Rick were dragging you off the guy. "I wanna know where my brother's gone, too, darlin', but taking the man's arm might not be the best idea in the world," he whispered in your ear as you struggled. 

"Damn it, Rick! He knows something!" you snapped, and Rick put a hand on your shoulder. You looked at him, and his eyes were cold. 

"Why'd you bring us here?" he asked the priest flatly. "You working with someone?" 

"I'm alone! I'm alone! I'm always alone!" 

"What about that woman in the food bank, Gabriel? What did you do to her? 'You'll burn for this.' That was for you. Why?" Rick pressed him, dropping to a crouch and getting right in Gabriel's face. 

You had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but good on him. Cowboy was doing that calm-reasonable thing with his voice, but you bet he had the crazy eyes out. Nobody could withstand the voice and the crazy eyes. 

"What are you gonna burn for, Gabriel?" Rick asked, and then he moved. He had two handfuls of the man's shirt, hauling him up to right in Rick's face. "What did you do?" 

 

He locked his congregation out, that's what he did. The night they'd bombed Atlanta, his flock had come looking for him. 

Your stomach churned while he talked about it, remembering the sound of the helicopters overhead, the way your heart had pounded as you'd watched them and you'd known what was coming. 

Explosions. Fire everywhere. Everything burning, burning, burning; the sick smell of it filling the air even miles out where you were. The looks in the eyes of your group, the ones who were all dead now, terrified and sobbing and wondering what was going on and how the government could have done that to the people still inside. 

You hadn't had the heart to tell them anyone inside still was dead long before the bombs dropped. 

And this sick bastard with his 'God will provide' mentality and empty smile had left his people to die, as they begged for him to let them in. And the dead came for them, and he left them- 

He left them. 

You stared at him as he wept, not even able to comprehend the horror of what he was saying. 

"The Lord said you're here to punish me," he said. "I'm damned. I was damned before. I always lock the doors. I always lock the doors!" He fell to the ground, sobbing, curling in on himself, and you turned away with a disgusted sneer. 

"Rick-" you started, but then Merle grabbed your arm. 

"Somethin' out there, little sister," he hissed, eyes on the woods and moving rapidly. 

You glanced at Rick and the three of you moved forward, Rick waving to Sasha to maintain her position at the doors, covering the three of you. 

"Probably a trap," you told the other two as you reached the edge of the clearing and looked into the woods. 

"Yeah," Rick agreed, and you moved in together. 

 

It was Bob, and someone had cut off the lower part of his leg. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," you muttered as you helped Rick maneuver Bob into a fireman's carry. Probably not the best thing for him, considering he was pale, sweaty, bleeding, and passed out. 

But what were you gonna do? Merle only had one hand, and there were walkers coming at you guys. You and Merle covered Rick, dropping four walkers as you high tailed it back to the church. 

Sasha went pale when she saw him, but you got her moving and inside. Rick strode toward the office, laying Bob on the sofa that you and Daryl had slept in the night before. 

"Get people on these windows, Merle, now!" you snapped as you followed him, turning just outside the office to issue orders. "Someone dumped him out there, and the noise will bring more walkers. Get something we can use to block the doors quickly if a herd hits, and find us an exit!" 

Then you hit the office, in time to see Bob waking up and Sasha grabbing his hand. 

"Rick?" you murmured, and he looked at you grimly. 

"No idea," he answered, and the two of you moved to the bed. 

"Hey, Bob. Sorry to have to do this, but what the hell happened to you?" you asked softly. 

"I was in the graveyard. Somebody knocked me out. Woke up outside this place. It looked like a school. It was that guy, Gareth- and five other ones. They were-" he broke off, his eyes horrified. "They were eating my leg right in front of me." 

You felt the blood drain from your face. "Jesus," you whispered, and Sasha turned to the side and threw up on the floor. Even Rick looked troubled. 

"I didn't believe you. That that's what they were doin'. But you were right," Bob said, looking at you. "They acted like it was nothing. All proud, like they had it all figured out." 

"Did they have Daryl and Carol?" Rick asked, quietly. He touched your hand gently as he looked at Bob, and you realized you had wrapped your hand around his arm and your fingers were digging in tightly. 

"Gareth said they- they drove off," Bob answered, groaning. 

"He's in pain, do we have anything?" Sasha asked, looking frantic. 

"Think there's some pill packets in the first aid kit," Rosita put in, and you turned to see everyone crowding in the room behind you except Merle, Glenn, and Michonne. 

You hoped that meant they were doing what you'd told Merle. 

"Save them," Bob ground out. 

"No!" Sasha looked at him, distressed. 

"Really!" Bob snapped, and pulled himself slowly upright. He pulled his shirt aside and showed the bite. "It happened at the food bank. Told those bastards I was tainted meat!" He started laughing, semi-hysterically. 

You turned and started to the door, ready to take the man's arm and maybe his head too, but Rick held you back. 

"We need him," he told you, forcing you to look in his eyes. 

"For what?" you snapped. 

"To find these bastards."


	50. Rick Makes Good on a Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

According to Father Disturbing, Bob had been held at an elementary school, about a ten minute walk through the woods from where you were. 

Abraham chose that moment to be a dick of the highest order, as you were trying to make some plans. 

"Time for a reality check," he'd declared, gun in his hands as he planted himself in front of the doors. Look, another dramatic son of a bitch, but he had a long way to go if he wanted to have anything on Rick Grimes. "We all need to leave for DC. Right now." 

"No. Sit down and shut up while the grown ups figure this out, Red," you tossed over your shoulder, ignoring him. "Rick, we-" 

"I think you misunderstand the situation here, little lady," Red snarled, and then you heard Merle's voice, soft and dangerous. 

"I think you're gonna want to keep your distance there, my friend. You'd best leave that girl alone, and put that damn gun down before I take it from you." 

You closed your eyes and counted backward from ten, grinding your teeth together before you finally turned around. Merle and Red were nearly nose to nose, and Red looked about ready to have a damn cow. 

"Listen, boys," you declared flatly, walking toward them. You spared a quick glance to his people, but Mullet sat, just as useless as he'd been so far, and GI Jane just looked amused by the whole damn thing. "Number one- Merle, thanks, but back off. We don't need a fight right now. Number two- Red, I know you wanna haul ass to DC so Mullet can fix the world with a push of a button, but you're insane if you think you're going to get anywhere very quickly. Especially without us. Some of our people are missing. We aren't going anywhere until we find them." 

"I respect that," Abraham said shortly as Merle backed off. Red stared at you, and you thought you saw something like approval in his eyes. "But there's a clear threat to Eugene here, and I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y'all won't come, good luck to you. We'll go our separate ways." 

You shrugged. Fine by you. 

Not fine by Rick. 

He and Big Red got into a shouting match over the bus and who was or wasn't coming back, and you did not have time for this, goddamn it. Especially when Rick reached out a hand to him- classic Cowboy move- and Big Red just flipped shit for a minute. 

Rosita dove into action, trying to back them up, but it was Glenn who got between them. Glenn who started to get him to calm down. And then Tara joined in, and Glenn and Maggie and Tara were promising to go with them to DC, no matter what, if they just stayed to help one more day. 

You couldn't believe it. You turned away, walking to the Sunday school room and slamming the door, even as Abraham agreed. 

You stood there, in the middle of the room, taking deep breaths to try to curb the rising tide of panic inside you. 

Your family was breaking up. Again. You'd just all found each other; you'd had one night, one damn night, of peace and happiness, and now- 

Daryl and Carol were gone. They'd driven off somewhere, and you didn't know where or why, or when- or hell, if- they were coming back. Bob was bitten, was going to die, and the motherfucking cannibals that no one had believed you about weren't actually dead, and had eaten his goddamn leg in front of him. 

Well, everyone fucking well believed you now! 

And Maggie and Glenn were just going to leave. They were going to leave, and so was Tara. You'd just been starting to get to know her, and it was someone else who would be gone. 

Everyone would be gone at this rate, and you'd be left alone. Again. 

Just as you felt the iron creeping into your lungs, the hand squeezing your throat and the dull ache of someone yanking on your hair starting, the door opened behind you. You wanted to turn around, but you couldn't, you couldn't, you were- 

"Hey, come on now, little sister," Merle said softly, closing the door behind him before moving around to face you. He got a good look at your face and something in his eyes hardened even as his voice stayed gentle. "Come on, girlie, is it really worth all that? Now it's been awhile since ol' Merle's seen you like this, sugar. Cain't say I care for it any." 

"Where'd- where'd he go, Merle?" you whispered, and he reached for your hand and drew you in. You leaned into his chest and focused on breathing. 

"I don't know, darlin'. I've been wonderin' that myself. It'd have to be damn important to tear him away from you." He sighed heavily, stroking a hand down your back. "He was all smug and self-satisfied when he went outside last night. Damn near able to light up the forest with just his own damn happiness. Don't know why he'd've left. Carol either," he added, and you could hear the worry in his voice. "We'll find 'em, though, sweetheart. Just gotta deal with these people eating fuckers first." 

 

You and Rick put your heads together and came up with a plan. 

Big Red pitched a fit about being left out of the planning stages, but Glenn just shook his head and told him to wait. 

"That right there is how the magic happens, dude," he'd said, and you'd flashed him a grin. 

You waited until night fell, and then marched your fighters out, being as obvious as you possibly could. 

You left Bob, Carl and Judith, Tyreese, and after much deliberation, Eugene and Rosita in the church with Father Gabriel. You'd pulled him aside- ok, fine; you'd cornered him when he wasn't paying attention and neither was Rick- and told him very seriously that if anything happened to the Grimes kids, anything at all, you'd be making good on your promise to feed bits of him to the walkers. 

As soon as you were in the woods, making a big show of heading toward the school where they'd had Bob, your people fanned out. You and Merle were the best woodsmen there, silent shadows flitting from tree to tree, so the two of you led the way back. Your people filtered into their positions, and you waited. 

 

It didn't take long. You'd barely settled into your place, having just made sure Rick was in position, when you heard them break open the door to the church. 

Well, here we go, then. 

You were the lookout, being smaller and faster than Merle. You slipped out of the woods warily, ducking from headstone to headstone as you checked for scouts. 

When you ran out of cover, you made a mad dash to the side of the church. You hugged the building, creeping closer and closer until you were crouched by the porch, rising up enough to look in the door and wait for your moment to strike. 

 

Did Gareth ever stop goddamn talking? 

Dude was speech making instead of just doing his damn job. He was talking, naming names of who was in there, and you found yourself hardcore rolling your eyes. 

Finally, you gave the signal. They were all too involved in what they were doing to see your people come out of the woods.

Rick and Merle were at your sides, and you nodded to them, the three of you taking point and sliding into the church. 

"Look, we know you're behind one of these two doors, and we have more than enough firepower to take down both," Gareth said, the cool mask slipping some into irritation. "Can't imagine that's what you all want." 

One of them racked his gun dramatically, and you felt your eyes roll so far back in your head it caused you actual pain. And the asshole was still talking. 

And then Judith started crying. 

 

Well, that wasn't part of the plan, but the three of you stayed hidden behind the back pews as Gareth and his crew moved to the door your people were hidden behind. 

"That's your last chance, right now, to tell us you're coming out," the asshole called. 

Silence. 

"Are we done?" one of his friends asked. 

"Fine. We'll hit the hinges," he gestured, and they raised their guns. 

Annnnddd... now. 

 

You fired, dropping the two at the door with the rifle you held in your hands. No bows for these pricks; you needed the tiny edge of speed that just squeezing a trigger gave you. No matter how fast you could draw- and you could draw damn fast- a gun would always have the edge. Glenn had found some suppressors on their run- in a mini fridge, ha!- and the rifle barely made a sound. You were grinning as the other four whirled around. 

"Put your guns on the floor, now," Rick said, and Gareth started talking. 

So you shot him. In the hand. 

Rick had claimed him for his own kill, and you were cool with that. One asshole tried to resist, but thought better of it. Not that it mattered. 

As your people came out of the darkness, surrounding them, Rick stood in front of Gareth. 

"No point in begging, right?" Gareth asked, clutching his injured hand to his leg. 

"Nope," Rick agreed, eyes hard. 

You shifted in your place, banned by mutiny of all hands- i.e.: by flat insistence from Merle, who got Rick on his side somehow and then added Abraham to Team Keep You Away from Them- from participating in what was about to go down. They'd argued that you were the backup, the sharpshooter set to swoop in if anything went wrong, but you knew it was Merle and Rick being overprotective. 

Probably because you'd been a little too gung-ho about this plan, if you were honest. You wanted these bastards' blood. 

"Still, you could have killed us when you came in. There had to be a reason for that," Gareth said, eyes still locked with Rick's. 

"There was," Rick agreed. "We didn't want to waste the bullets." 

Gareth started running his mouth again, and you sighed. "Rick," you said flatly. "Handle it, or I will." 

"We can walk away from this!" Gareth sputtered as Rick's eyes left him to meet yours. "We will never cross paths again!" 

"But you will cross paths with someone," Rick said, and his gun came up. Gareth winced, but Rick spun it on his finger and put it away. "Besides," he continued. "I already made you a promise." 

He pulled the machete from his belt, the one with a red handle, and the world was full of screams and blows. 

You met Tyreese's eyes as he opened the door while Rick, Merle, Abraham, and Sasha went ape on these bastards. He stared at you, and you saw the fear and the sorrow in his eyes, but you didn't feel any of it yourself. You walked around Rick as he swung, getting coated in blood yet again- man just couldn't fuckin' stay clean- and closed the door in Tyreese's face.


	51. It's Like Your People Were Trying to Get Themselves Killed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> loud and messy domestic disputes; yelling and references to physical violence during an argument  
> brief mention of past emotional/mental abuse  
> brief mention of suicide and psych holds

Michonne had her sword back, and for some reason, that was almost enough to make you believe everything was right with the universe. 

For a moment. 

You all said your goodbyes to Bob, and you stood watch over Sasha's shoulder as she wrapped sticks in twine to make a cross. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered to her as she rose, and she nodded to you once. 

Then it was time. You'd survived the night, and the morning clean up, and now you stood, watching as Maggie and Glenn and Tara prepared to drive off with Big Red's trio of miscreants. It was one of the hardest things you'd ever done, and Abraham's insistence that 'the new world was gonna need Rick Grimes' and his genuine desire for your people to all come with him wasn't enough. 

You stepped up in his space, eyes fixed on him and dry, despite the tightness in your chest. He met your eyes steadily, waving one had when Rick started forward to try to keep the damage down. 

"What more can I do for you, my fine lady?" he asked seriously, and you felt your eyes narrow.

"If anything happens to my people, anything at all- I don't care if Maggie gets a hangnail or Glenn stubs his toe or Tara smacks herself in the face with her own bow-" 

"Hey!" Tara protested, but you were still going. 

"I will take the price of it out of you. In blood. These are my people you're stealing away for your quest, Big Red. Not yours; mine. And I will get them back," you promised, and he held your stare for a moment before nodding slowly. 

"They are your people. Loud and clear. But they're guarding one of mine, and we will be getting his hairy ass to Washington, no matter what it takes along the way. When I see you again, if you need to take out any injuries they sustain on me- well, darlin', you're more than welcome to try. And I have a feeling you'd succeed." He gave you a faint smile, turned, and circled one finger in the air and he whistled. "Let's load 'em up!" 

Rosita gave you a feral grin as she passed you, and you wondered what it'd be like to get to know her a little more. Eugene was next, and he paused on his way by. 

"If I may be so bold as to offer an unsolicited opinion of your person, I feel compelled to let you know I find you utterly and completely irresistibly attractive," he said flatly, and you blinked at him in complete shock. He'd barely said two words to you the whole time you were walking, and now that's what he chose to part with? 

Merle was at your shoulder in one stride. "You're lucky your ass is goin' on that bus, Haircut," he drawled lazily at Eugene. "'Cause if my baby brother heard you thinkin' such things about his wife, you'd be in some deep shit, son." 

"My pardon," Mullet mumbled, and then he was gone and you were shooting Merle an exasperated glare. 

Tara fist bumped you and threw up the peace sign as she boarded, tossing a 'smell you later, bitches' over her shoulder as she went, and you were grinning from that when Maggie and Glenn hugged you at the same time, from either side, and then you were a crying, clinging mess. 

Merle wrapped his arm around you as the bus drove off, Maggie and Glenn and Tara staring out the window at you as long as they could. When they were finally out of sight, you pressed your face to Merle's shoulder and cried. 

 

You were perched on the railing in the dark, keeping watch, when Michonne slipped outside. You lifted one hand in lazy greeting, saying nothing. She nodded back and sat down on the stairs, her sword held out in front of her as she stared at it. 

"Miss it?" you asked softly after a moment. 

She shrugged, and slid it into the sheath with a snap. "A little," she admitted softly, and you chuckled. 

"Yeah, I get that." 

You were silent again, when the door swung open on your side, blocking you from the view of whoever came out. 

"Couldn't sleep," Father Gabriel's voice came from behind the door. He didn't turn when he closed it, so he didn't see you as he sat on the steps next to Michonne. 

She didn't say a word to him, just scanned the woods in front of you like she was on watch. 

"It isn't just what happened last night. Saying what happened before... out loud... I see it all again. I hear them," he said, his face contorting. 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment when Michonne's voice came softly. 

"Yeah... That won't stop. But it won't be all the time." 

Ok, now you were going to say something, because comforting the bastard? That was some bullshit. 

Then you heard the rustling, and you dropped from the railing to the ground soundlessly and moved forward. 

"Samurai," you hissed, and Gabriel jumped, hand coming to his chest, when you appeared. 

"Yeah," she breathed back, rising fluidly to her feet. Gabriel ducked back inside the church as the two of you paced into the woods.

You had the lead, arrow on the string and drawn, listening as the rustling continued. 

It was patterned, and somehow- deliberate? Not a walker; this was a person, and you tensed as they came closer, closer- 

Daryl? 

"Dixon?" you breathed, your bow dropping. You stared at him, and he stared back at you, and he looked guilty and hurt and sorry and relieved all at once. 

But you were pissed, damn it. He wasn't getting off that easy, not even when all you wanted was to fling yourself in his arms and hold on tight. 

Shit had gone down here, and he'd left you. He'd just disappeared, without a word. 

"Where's Carol?" Michonne asked, and that was when you noticed he was alone. 

Well, not as alone as you'd thought. 

Someone walked out of the woods behind him, and that definitely wasn't Carol. 

 

It was a kid, and his name was Noah. He'd been a part of a group, a hospital in motherfuckin' Atlanta, where some cops had been keeping people alive in exchange for their work. 

Of course, that's where Beth was. And somehow, that's where Carol had ended up too. 

You'd heard the story, the one Daryl told Rick and the others. He'd gone out to piss, like he'd told you. Saw Carol trying to sneak away. Followed her to try to get her to talk. They'd seen the car, the one with the white cross, and he hadn't thought. He'd just jumped into the vehicle Carol had been planning on sneaking away in, and they'd followed. 

You'd almost understood. Almost. 

They'd gone all the way back to Atlanta, dodging walkers and shit, and found the hospital. Grady Memorial. 

You'd been there a few times yourself, as a patient. A few bruises that hadn't wanted to heal very well. That one time you'd fucked up trying to clean up a broken window and your ex'd thought it was a suicide attempted, even though you'd never be so dumb as to try bleeding out with him right the fuck there if you'd been trying to die. He'd taken you to the hospital, gotten you placed on 24 hr hold. That wasn't a good memory. 

Then they'd gotten attacked by this kid, Noah, and if he hadn't looked so ashamed, you might have been inclined toward violence. But he'd been trying to get Beth out too, and Daryl and Carol had agreed to work with him when the walkers came. Carol had been clearing an exit when she was hit by one of the hospital's cars, and they took her away. 

So now Daryl was here, asking for help, to get both of them out. 

Like he should have fucking done in the first place. 

 

You were fortifying the church, because not all of you were going. There'd been a loud, angry, slightly violent argument between you, Daryl, Merle, and Rick that had had the new kid and Father Disturbing watching with wide eyes until Carl had stepped in. He'd passed Judith off to an equally wide-eyed Tyreese, who was watching the proceedings like he'd never seen any of you argue before. 

And hell, maybe he hadn't been around for any of your Dixon discussions. 

To be fair, this one was a doozy. You didn't usually throw things, but you were pissed as hell. Daryl wanted you to stay behind, protect the kids and the preacher and hold the church for them. You wanted to kick his ass six ways to Sunday for running off without you, and you weren't holding your tongue about that. 

Merle was on your side with the ass kicking, but was backing Daryl on the you-staying-put front, and you'd given him a few strong licks about that, at top volume, when Rick had joined in. He started out just trying to get you all to calm the fuck down- his actual words- but when he realized the tide of the argument, he'd actually backed you up. Now all of you were yelling over each other- and even with Rick on your side about you going with them to Atlanta, you were still yelling at him about him not letting you in on taking out the Terminus pricks, and Daryl was screaming for someone to tell him just what that meant- and you were up in Daryl's face and Merle was in Rick's, but yelling over at you, and Daryl was yelling over at Rick, and you were just so done. 

You took a step back, scooped up some decorative something from the altar, and hurled it at the wall. It gave a satisfying thunk and then fell to the floor where it shattered. 

Silence for about two seconds, and then all three of them turned on you, shouting at once about what the hell was that and you could have hurt someone and you needed to chill your shit out and walk it off, or some such nonsense. You were taking a deep breath and preparing to shut them all down when you saw Carl come in, hand over Judith to Tyreese, and start toward you. 

He put himself between you and the three men, and instantly, all three of them stopped screaming and backed off a step. 

Carl used the fact that Daryl and Merle would never do anything to threaten him no matter how pissed they were like damn weapon when you argued. It wasn't the first time he'd come between two of the Dixons during a screaming match (and on one memorable occasion, when Daryl and Merle had been throwing punches), and people always seemed surprised that just his presence tended to make all arguments stop. 

You smirked a little at the boys, and they all scowled at you. 

"Stop gloating," Carl had ordered, glaring over his shoulder at you. "All of you, give it a rest. She's going, so stop. She's right to be pissed at you, Daryl; you shouldn't have just taken off like that. We all just found each other. But we know why you did. The two of you just need to have a damn talk- an actual talk, not a Dixon discussion- but we don't have time for that right now. Now are you going to help us get this place ready or what?" 

He'd glared them all down, Rick being the easiest- he just stood there, smiling at his boy, and met your eyes over Carl's head for a moment. He nodded, you nodded back, and Rick walked away. Carl turned his attention to Merle, who eyed him for a moment before clapping Daryl on the shoulder, giving you a hard look, and following Rick. 

Two down, two to go. Carl stepped back, looked between you and Daryl and ordered, "Talk. Quietly. For a minute. Don't scare Judith." And he wandered away. 

You and Daryl had looked at each other, glaring for a moment. Then you were both smiling, and he reached for your hand and pulled you into him, and you held on, face against his chest. 

"I'm sorry, woman. I shouldn't have run off like that. Just didn't know what to do. I had to follow them. I had to. They've got Beth," he whispered to your hair. 

You'd let out a sigh, tipped your head back, and kissed him softly. "I know. I'm sorry too, Dixon. But I'm going, whether you like it or not." 

He nodded and kissed you again, and you heard the new kid talking to Carl. 

"What the hell? They were just- and now they're-" he asked, sounding thoroughly bewildered. 

Carl just laughed. "Congrats, man, you're officially part of the group. You've survived your first Dixon discussion, and you had the added entertainment of a Dixon-Grimes grudgefest at the same time. If you survived that, you can survive anything!" 

"Shut up, Grimes!" You yelled at him with a grin, and he just laughed.


	52. Scared, Impressed, and a Little Turned On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> brief mention of threatened rape/non con (extremely non specific)

The windows were boarded with wood from the pews. The pipes from the organ were thrust into the ground, spike sides out, as walker traps. 

"Are you going to take the cross, too?" Father Disturbing asked as you and Daryl drove them into the ground together. 

"If we need it," Daryl said snidely, and you'd grinned at him. 

Sasha wasn't doing so great, with Bob being gone, and frankly, you wanted to leave her behind. But it wasn't up to you, and Rick had too much else to worry about for you to start in on him about Sasha's mental state. 

Carl wanted to go with you to Atlanta, but he knew better. He, Michonne, and Judith were staying behind, and you gave Michonne a tight, grateful hug.

"Thanks, Samurai," you whispered to her while Rick said goodbye to Carl and Judith. 

"Always," she answered. "Go on; they need you." 

You pulled away and gave her an amused look as her eyes lingered on Rick. "He needs you, too," you told her quietly, and her eyes whipped to yours. You didn't say anything else as Rick stepped over to you, just touched her shoulder and moved over to Carl. 

"Ok, kid. You know the drill," you told him with a grin. He gave a long-suffering sigh. 

"Be safe. Listen to the Samurai. Watch out for Judith," he intoned, deadpan. 

"Well, yeah, but that's not what I meant," you told him with a grin, and grabbed him in a tight hug. "I meant this one. Love you, Grimes. See you soon." You released him after he squeezed back, flicking the brim of his hat with a grin. 

He rolled his eyes at you and blushed a little as he saw everyone's grins, but he was smiling as he scuffed at the ground with his toe. "Love you too, and stuff." 

"And stuff," you agreed with a chuckle, and you were off. 

It was going to be a long dive back to Atlanta. 

 

Daryl drove. You and Rick rode in the cab of the truck he and Noah had come back from Atlanta in, talking over plans and what to do when you got there. 

The others had been forced to ride in the back, with the rolling door held open at the bottom to let in light and air. You did not envy them that at all, and Merle's look as he climbed in the back with Sasha, Tyreese, and Noah was pointed, to say the least. He was not happy about being the only Dixon in the back, but who the hell was gonna tell Rick he couldn't ride in the cab? Not you, that's for sure. 

"Not much we can really plan until we get there. See what's what," Rick observed after you'd been on the road awhile. "Still. Like to have some ideas in mind."   
"Yeah," you agreed, gripping your bow and Daryl's where they stood upright against your legs. Rick had his rifle and yours to keep up with, and Daryl was driving. You were sandwiched between Dixon and Grimes, and you were pretty crabby about it, damn it. Wasn't much better than the tin can Merle was in. 

"Ain't much to say. City's still full a walkers. We'll need some exit routes. Noah'll help with the hospital part," Daryl grunted.

He'd been silent and tense since he got back, worried about Beth and feeling guilty about Carol being hurt and taken. You shifted a little so you could press your leg against his- didn't take much in the cramped truck- and he glanced at you, then wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

"Sorry," he said, and you kissed his cheek. 

"I feel like the third wheel here," Rick teased the two of you with a small smile. 

"Well, I bet if you'd left Tyreese and Sasha with the kids like I said, you could have been in the back gettin' all cozy with Michonne," you shot back cheerfully, and Rick blushed and mumbled something. 

Daryl let out that full laugh you loved getting out of him, and Rick blushed even harder, scowling out the window as you drove along. 

 

Getting into Atlanta was a hell of a lot easier than you'd anticipated. You'd remembered the mind-numbing, endless battle with the dead to keep your people alive as you'd broken out of the city a few years before. 

There'd been walkers everywhere, and you hadn't been the fighter, the survivor, you were now. You'd had to learn fast- and you had- but you'd lost a few on the way, and their screams and the horde's growls and snarls rang hollowly in your ears as you left the truck and moved in on foot. 

You could smell the early-days stench of death and decay still; the reek of blood and guts in your nose and the sharp metallic tang of your own blood on your tongue as you fought, endlessly. You'd discovered by accident that wearing walker guts disguised your smell and made you almost undetectable to them, covered as the eleven of you who'd made it out had been. 

You'd shivered at the memory, even in the baking heat from the sun bouncing off the miles and miles of pavement. 

But you'd made it to the building Daryl and Carol had used for shelter, and it was time to figure out what to do next. 

"At sundown we fire a shot into the air. Get two of them out on patrol. Then once it's dark enough that the rooftop spotter won't see us, we go." Rick was crouched, pointing to the crude map he'd sketched in the dirt floor. "We cut the locks on one of the stairways, take it to the fifth floor. I open the door, Daryl takes the guard out." 

"How?" Tyreese asked, and you bit back a sigh with effort. 

"He slits his throat," Rick answered casually. 

"No, I'll take that. I'm faster and better with knife work," you put in and Daryl didn't argue. "This is all about us doing this quiet, keeping the upper hand. Should be me."  
"All right," Rick agreed. "They're not expecting us. From there we fan out. Knives and silenced weapons. We need to be fast." 

He turned back to his sketch, marking where Noah had told you the officers would be. From the stories Noah had shared, these guys were bad news. The leader, Dawn, had probably been a good cop before the world went to shit. Her officers weren't. 

The people they saved used resources, and worked to pay those resources off. 

Not a problem, necessarily, in your opinion, except that as you lived there while working things off, you used more resources- food was kept careful track of and added to your ledger- and therefore had to stay and work longer. It was barely disguised slavery, and that was bad enough. 

But Noah had told the group about some of what the other officers- some asshole Gorman in particular- did to the women they'd brought it. 

Beth was seventeen. You'd felt your blood go cold, and Daryl had gotten this pinched off look on his face. You'd hissed out some questions and Noah had been quick to assure you that Beth had held her own and hadn't been touched. 

She'd even killed the Gorman character before she and Noah had made their escape attempt. Noah had made it out, but Beth hadn't, after she'd saved him. He'd looked grim and desperate, and you recognized the guilt in his face and actions. 

"Tyreese, Sasha, you take out these guys," Rick was saying. "Daryl, Merle, take the kitchen. YN, you'll come with me to here. I've got Dawn," he added, and you nodded. 

Daryl hesitated, clearly wanting to be at your side, but he'd looked from you to Rick and nodded. That look told you he was trusting you to watch Rick's back and Rick to watch yours, and you found yourself smiling at him like a fool. 

"If they're smart, the rest of them will give up. We'll have the odds, even more once we get a weapon to Beth," he added with a nod at Daryl. 

"The wards will help," Noah added grimly. 

"That's best case," Tyreese said, and you heard the refusal in his tone. You ground your teeth as his existential crisis continued, as usual, with poor timing. "What's worst case?" he asked. "All it takes is one of those cops going down the hall at the wrong time. Then it's not quiet. All hands on deck." 

"So?" you asked bluntly. "We can handle it. We've got the numbers." 

"If that's what it takes," Sasha agreed, her voice dead. 

"It's not," Tyreese snapped. "If we get a couple of her cops, alive, out here, we do an even trade." 

"Oh for fuck's sake," you exploded. "A trade? That's even more risky. We lose the element of surprise, lose the advantage of hiding. They don't know we're here, don't know our numbers. A trade loses all of that, and everyone is tense and trigger happy the whole damn time. Accidents happen, and we can't afford that!" 

"Theirs for ours, everybody goes home alive!" Tyreese insisted, and Rick rose. 

"Yeah, I get it. And it might work," he said, stepping to Tyreese's side. You huffed a little in protest, but he continued, gesturing at his sketched map. "This will work." 

It was Daryl who spoke, giving you a worried, apologetic glance as he did. "This'll work too. You say this Dawn, she's just tryin' to keep everything together?" he asked Noah. 

"Trying and doing are two different things," Noah answered, and you snorted. 

"Take two of her cops away, what choice does she have? Everybody goes home," Daryl continued, ignoring your incredulous expression. "Let's do it like he says." 

You and Rick stared at him, then at each other. You just shrugged a little. 

Hey, if it mattered that much to Dixon, you'd do it his way. You thought it was a bad idea, but whatever. 

Finally, Rick nodded. 

It was a plan. You just hoped it was the right one. And from the look in Daryl's eyes as he turned from you to get started, he hoped it was the right one too. 

 

Noah played the bait, and he did a damn good job of it. You shadowed him through the streets, staying out of sight but keeping an eye on him until the Grady cops arrived, just like he'd said they would. 

And you had your hostages. 

Except that there were complications. As usual. 

There was another car, out of nowhere. Your hostages got away in it, but they ran right into one of the evac sites- which had also been one of the bomb targets. 

You did your best not to puke as the smell hit you, backing Daryl up as he cleared the car and the blasted-out FEMA trailer. The half-burned, half-gone rotters were everywhere, and you started putting them down rather than listen to their groans. 

Your back was turned; that was your only excuse. So the asshole that came out of nowhere and clocked you one on the head in passing got in a lucky shot. 

You went down hard, and you might have blacked out for a minute; you weren't sure. When you could see again and had scrambled to your feet, the asshole had Daryl flat on his back, his head perilously close to biting teeth of a melted former human, and was choking him out. 

"Oh hell no," you muttered, starting in for the guy, but Dixon chose that moment for a truly boss move. 

He ripped the head off one of the rotters nearby by thrusting his fingers into its eye sockets- eww, eww, eww- and beat the dude in the head with it. 

He beat the dude in the head with a walker's head. 

What the fuck, Dixon. 

You were impressed, scared, and to be honest? A little turned on. 

The asshole was scrambling to his feet when you put an arrow through the other walker's skull and had the next one aimed at his head. He froze, staring down your bow, and Daryl climbed to his feet beside you as Rick and company appeared. 

"Well, three's better than two," you said to Rick, and let him keep the guy at gunpoint while you went to Daryl.


	53. Catch Her When She Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> major character death

There was talk. The woman tried to convince you of one thing, one of the guys tried to convince you of another. You ignored everyone, checked Daryl over carefully, and then grabbed him in a hard hug. 

"Don't do that again, ok?" you whispered, and he chuckled a little. 

"A'ight, woman. I'll try," he whispered back.

"And wash your damn hand when you get a chance. That was disgusting," you added as you pulled away from him to go back to the group. 

"Naw, you liked it," he grunted back. "You thought it was hot, and ya know it." 

You gave him a withering look over your shoulder, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. You slid your fingers into his hair and he pressed you close with a hand on your back and finally gave in with a roll of your eyes and a smile. 

"Fine, you win. Yeah, I did," you admitted. "Still don't want you to do it again. And you still need to clean your nasty hand before you even think about touchin' me!" 

 

You left Lamson with Sasha as a guard for like ten minutes, and that went about as well as you'd expected. Rick ended up running the dude over with a police car and shooting him in the head. 

Sigh. Down to two prisoners now, and you'd lost some of your edge with all the damn fucking noise you'd been making. 

"He wouldn't stop," Rick told you and Daryl softly when he came back. 

"This change things?" Daryl asked. 

"It has to." 

"Maybe not," Daryl argued. 

"She said the plan won't work. The guy who did is dead," Rick said, incredulous. "Maybe we gotta rethink this." 

"We're out of time. Lost our advantage," you put in. "We don't have time to rethink. They also said the cop in charge didn't have any love for him." 

"Maybe you did her a favor," Daryl added. 

"I don't know if they'll play ball," Rick said softly. 

"Then we handle shit." You were impatient now, ready to get the show on the road. "We have the numbers. Change things up a bit. Hide Sasha, Merle, Tyreese. You, Dixon, Noah, and I make the exchange. We have snipers. They don't play ball, we just fuck them up." 

Rick and Daryl looked at you and you shrugged. "It's elegant in it's simplicity. Now come on, before we lose any more advantages we have." 

 

The girl was a good liar. You didn't trust a good liar. 

Well, you didn't trust a bad one either, but still. You had a bad feeling about this. 

Instead of just using the damn radio, Rick met two more of Dawn's people in person. Luckily, he'd listen to you, Daryl, and Merle flat out refuse to let him do it alone and without cover, and your three snipers- Sasha, Tyreese, Merle- covered him from above. You and Daryl lurked on the ground with him, providing cover while they talked. 

It worked, especially when one of them nailed a walker with one silenced shot.

Mission successful, exchange agreed to. Now for the hard part. 

 

You met on one of the lower hospital floors. You were not at all pleased about that, since it took your sniper backup out of the equation and you had no time to regroup or discuss. The two officers who arranged it all escorted you in, you and Daryl keeping the prisoners at gun point. 

You let out a sigh of relief when you saw Beth and Carol- Carol in a wheelchair. 

Things were tense, just like you'd said. 

Your prisoners lied all too well about the dead guy, and soon enough it was time for the exchange. 

"One of your for one of mine," Dawn said, and Rick nodded.

As you'd agreed, you step forward with the guy first, leading him down the hallway toward Dawn. One of hers pushed Carol in the wheelchair, and she gave you a tight smile. You just nodded back, fixing Beth with a long 'please don't do anything stupid' look when you reached the middle and took over the wheelchair. 

Beth gave you such a soft, happy look, glancing back and forth between you and Daryl, that you couldn't help but feel bad for the way you'd acted toward Daryl about her. She really was just a good, sweet kid, and you could see how she would have kept his head on straight while you'd been separated. 

It was Rick who took the woman forward, and Dawn who brought Beth, and you thought maybe- maybe this would work after all.

Beth reached Rick safe enough, and then Dawn spoke.

"Glad we could work things out," she said. 

"Yeah," Rick answered, and Beth made it to Daryl, who reached for her. 

"Now I just need Noah," Dawn continued, and all of you froze. You could read the fear in her eyes, but it wasn't you and your people she was afraid of. It was hers. 

This was about to go to hell in a hand basket, and you shifted your weight a little and brought your hand to your knife. 

Rick was striding back toward her and you went with him, silent and angry. No way you'd let him go near her alone.

"That wasn't part of our deal," Rick said, and his hand was beside his gun. 

"Noah was my ward," she snapped, trying to sound commanding and just coming out bitchy. "Beth took his place and I'm losing her, so I need him back." 

"Ma'am, please, it's not-" the woman began, but Dawn shut her up. 

Fuck, this was all a goddamn power play. As soon as one of her own people protested, you saw her face shut down completely. All room to maneuver was gone, and she couldn't back down now. At least not in her own mind. 

You wondered how much of her fear of losing control was actually because her people didn't respect her, and how much had been in her head. 

"My officers put their lives on the line to find him," she continued. "One of them died." 

"He ain't stayin'," Daryl growled from behind you. 

"He's one of mine. You have no claim on him."

"The boy wants to go home, so you have no claim on him," Rick sneered at her. 

"Well then we don't have a deal," she said, and you really wanted to tell her that her tough-woman act just came over as bitchy. 

"The deal is done!" Rick snapped. 

"It's ok," Noah said, coming up behind you. "I've gotta do it." He handed Rick his gun. 

"It's not ok," Beth whispered, and Daryl must have taught her some things, because you didn't even know she'd gotten so close. 

"Beth, no!" Daryl called, but she was moving past you already, grabbing Noah as he stood in front of Dawn. 

You tensed, sensing something as Beth pulled back, but even you were too slow, and-

Beth sliced at Dawn's throat with something- scissors? maybe?- and a shot rang out almost as she moved, and- 

And another shot came from behind, this one from Daryl, and Dawn dropped with a bullet in her head while your ears rang, the sound deafening you even as you moved.

You were among her people, and you dropped one with your knife under his chin, and you were grabbing for the woman you'd had captured and your knife was going to her, and then Rick's arms were around you, hauling you back as he held Dawn's people at gunpoint. 

Her people had their hands up, and the woman you'd been about to kill was speaking, keeping them back. 

There was more talking, but once Rick pulled you away, you didn't hear it; you didn't care. You wrenched yourself from his arms and walked back to Beth. 

Back to Beth, where Daryl already had her in his arms, tears pouring down his face and Carol's hand on his shoulder. You went to him, and Carol stepped away.   
You stood in front of him and didn't say a word. You just touched his face, and he looked at you, and you nodded, and the two of you started walking out of there, taking her with you. 

A blood soaked firetruck had awaited you outside, along with all of your people- even Maggie, Glenn, and Tara, and Abraham's crew. 

The look on Maggie's face when she saw you was enough to break your heart, and you were glad Glenn was there to catch her when she fell.


	54. Five Hundred Miles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst  
> lots of angst
> 
> don't say I didn't warn you

Beth was going to take Noah home. To Richmond, Virginia. 

That's what Noah told Rick in the flickering light of a campfire while your people grieved and caught up. You sat between Rick and Merle, and Merle had his hand on your back. 

God knew, you needed the support. 

Daryl had yet to speak a word to you. To anyone. 

He'd gone off in the woods the second your caravan had stopped for the night, after you'd hauled ass from Atlanta. You'd moved to follow him, but Merle had stopped you with his hand on your shoulder, and gone himself. 

He'd come back twenty minutes later with three rabbits, a squirrel, a rapidly swelling and bruising eye, and a pissed-off expression. And no Daryl. 

"Just leave him be, little sister," he'd growled when you'd met him at the edge of camp, eyes wide as you reached up to touch his cheek under the black eye. "He ain't in any mood to listen to nobody. Ain't gonna let him hurt ya while he'd havin' a bitch fit." 

"Daryl wouldn't hit-" you started to protest, and he shot you a glare. 

"Didn't say he would. Ain't gonna do either of you no good for him to talk to you right now, darlin', so best just leave it be." 

You'd reluctantly come with him, dressing his kills for your groups dinner while he and Rick talked with you about what to do next. Merle took Tyreese to find water, Merle glancing at you when he said it. 

You wondered how much of the guy's blood was all over you. You wondered how much of Beth's blood was all over you. 

You'd been right behind her when Dawn's shot had hit.

With Merle and Tyreese out, Daryl in the woods, Rick and Michonne setting up the walker traps to secure the camp, Glenn and Sasha preoccupied with Maggie, Carl watching Judith and Gabriel, Carol and Noah injured, and Rosita handling whatever was going on with Abraham and Eugene, you realized it was up to you to handle the injured and figure out just what was going on. 

Good God, you were tired just thinking about everything going on. 

Tara appeared at your shoulder as you started for the vehicle that had the first aid kit in it. "How can I help?" she asked seriously, and you sighed. 

"Honestly? I've no idea. We need to take a look at Carol, probably at Abraham, at Noah's leg. Judith needs to eat. I need to cook those rabbits. And I need to know what the hell has been happening to everyone," you finished, pressing your hands over your eyes for a long moment. 

Tara swung her bow over her shoulder, in a direct copy of your own move. "Ok," she said, grabbing the first aid kit from your hands. "Let me give you the run down, as far as I know."

 

Eugene was a lying bastard and Abraham's anger issues were greater than you'd known. 

They hadn't gotten very far when the bus broke down again and they'd found the fire truck instead, and then they'd gotten a bit further than that when they'd met the horde across the road. Abraham had been ready to fight their way through, determined to stop going sideways and get Eugene to Washington, whatever the cost.  
When Mullet had realized that Big Red was willing to get every one of your people killed if it got him through, he'd confessed that he was a big fat fraud. 

It was only Carol's steady eyes on you as you checked the cut under the bandage on her head that had kept you from punching Eugene's lights out. 

Turns out Abraham had handled that shit for you, and proceeded to retreat to his current semi-catatonic state. After a bit, Maggie, Glenn, Tara, and Rosita had gotten the firetruck turned around, Abraham to a point where he wasn't staring in the distance and doing nothing, and Eugene conscious again and had headed back to the church, for lack of anything else to do. 

You'd checked Noah's ankle and moved on to Eugene's face when Carl- sitting nearby with Judith- took over the story. 

Father Disturbing had slipped out of the church through the floorboards and found himself a herd of walkers, which he had proceeded to bring back to the church with him, picking up a few friends along the way. You'd given the father a look that promised something grisly when you had the chance, and he'd cowered back away from you. 

Apparently, Carl and Michonne had let him back in, but the walkers came too- because duh- and they'd escaped with Judith the same way Gabriel had. Then they trapped the walkers inside, and were planning to deal with them slowly when Abraham's group had arrived. They'd decided to kick it to Atlanta to meet up with your group instead. 

Jesus, it had been a rough few days. 

When Merle and Tyreese got back, Merle had used some of the water to get the blood- and though he'd tried to hide it from you, some of Beth's and possibly Dawn's brains- off your face and hair. You'd sat as he worked, filling Rick in on what they'd told you, and now you were still between them as the sky got darker and darker and Daryl still didn't leave the goddamn woods. 

 

He didn't reappear until the next morning, and he still didn't speak to anyone. Just swung into the back of the van that housed most of your people without a word, closing his eyes and propping his foot up on the seat in front of him in a clear dismissal of everyone. 

Merle had scoffed at him when he came out of the woods and turned away. Daryl had glanced at you, bent over a map with Rick on the hood of one of the cars, and gone for the van without a flicker of anything in his eyes. 

Goddamn it. If that's how he wanted to be, than that's how he could be. You sure as hell weren't going to try to talk it out with him in a van full of the rest of these people, even if you loved them. 

You'd felt him watching you, though, as you got people sorted out, directing traffic and issuing the walkie talkies you'd use to communicate with the caravan. You glanced over at the van as you slid into the passenger seat of Rick's car, Merle getting in the backseat with Carl, Judith, and Michonne, and you saw him sneer and glare at you. 

What the fuck was up with that? 

You turned away and got in the car, but you knew Merle had caught the flash of hurt you couldn't control. 

"Ignore him, little sister," he said, anger in his tone. "He's takin' a page outta our daddy's book right now, and you don't need to be anywhere near all that shit." 

You had literally no idea what that meant, but Merle clammed up for hours after that, and you stared out the window and brooded until it was time to let someone else have a turn in the front seat. 

 

Five hundred miles was a long damn way. Daryl made it even longer, barely speaking, not really looking at you, and disappearing into the woods as soon as you stopped for the night. 

You would have done something about it by now- loudly, and possibly violently- if Merle hadn't been keeping you away from him. Finally you snapped. You were one day from Noah's community, plans needed to be made, and Daryl fucking Dixon needed to get out of his funk and do more than just drop squirrels, rabbits, and the occasional fish at the edge of camp and disappear again. 

You had your bow in your hands, moving silently through the woods as you searched for dinner, Daryl, or both, when Merle caught up to you. 

"I know what ya doin', sugar, and I told you it's a piss poor idea," he said, leaning against a tree as you came around it. 

"Jesus, Merle," you muttered when your heart made its way out of your throat. "What the hell, man?" 

"Leave him be," Merle said again, and you threw your hands in the air and started pacing around angrily. 

"Why? So he can sulk and brood and either not look at me or glare and sneer at me like I've done something wrong? How is that better than whatever he might say or do if I go knock some sense into his damn fool head like I should have done days ago?" you growled, and Merle sighed. 

"Look, darlin', he's got his head so far up his ass he can taste his own shit. He don't know what he's doin', and I don't want him takin' that out on you. He's in a bad space, and he's lashin' out at those that love him first of all, and hardest." 

"What happened when you went to talk to him, Merle? I just don't understand what's going on," you whispered, your pacing coming to a halt as the tears appeared out of nowhere. 

"Aww, little sister, don't start that now. Break ol' Merle's heart when you well up like that, sugar," Merle said when you started to cry. "Look, he just ran his mouth off some. Don't concern you none, honey, you just need to keep your distance 'till he gets his head on straight. Come here," he said, pushing off the tree and walking over to you. 

You sniffed as he put his hand on your shoulder, shaking your head at yourself. "I'm- I'm fine, really, I just-" You broke off as you choked up on a fresh wave, everything hitting you all at once, as usual. 

"I got ya," Merle said fondly, pulling you into him and rubbing your back. You leaned into his shoulder with a muffled sob, and let him hold you while you cried. 

"Shoulda known I'd find ya hittin' on my girl. Didn't think she'd let you, though. Figured it'd be Rick before it was you." Daryl's voice was a cold, disgusted sneer from behind you, and you pushed away from Merle to turn toward him, one step in his direction before his words hit you like a freight train and you froze. 

What the hell? What was he implying? 

You just stared at him a minute, uncertainly, and he scoffed at your expression. 

"Don't gimme those bambi eyes. Don't think I ain't seen you in camp," he said, tossing his head so his hair fell over his eyes, and you stepped back like he'd slapped you. 

Hell, it would have hurt less if he'd had. 

"You best shut your damn mouth before you ruin the best thing you ever had, baby brother," Merle's voice was hard, and he touched your back gently. "Come on, little sister, head on back to camp now. Looks like my brother and I need to have us a come-to-Jesus conversation." 

"No," you snapped, Merle's protectiveness breaking the confusion Daryl's face and tone and words had held you in. "He's not going to do this. I won't let him. Do you hear me, Daryl Dixon? I won't let you!" 

You stepped toward him, getting in his space when he tried to brush you off. You held his gaze until he sneered again and looked away, but you saw the guilt in his eyes before he did. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you asked him, anger fueling you as you thought about the last few days. "What was it you told me? 'If you got somethin' to say, say it?' Well, go ahead. I'm right here. Been right here, hoping you'd come talk to me about what happened. But no, instead you disappear every damn night, ignore me or sneer at me whenever you come back, and now you're, what? Accusing me of being a whore? Back that shit up, Dixon," you snarled at him. "Because it don't fly. Not with me." 

"What you want me to say?" he snapped back. "You got her killed! You got her killed, and you been pushin' me away for ages. Ever since the damn baby. Now you're hangin' off my brother and Rick all the damn time. Shoe fits," he added with a shrug and another sneer. 

What? 

No, seriously, what? 

"Seriously?" you said, incredulously. "Were you not in the same place I was? Beth got herself killed, asshole, as much as I hate to say it of that sweet girl. She did. She pulled some scissors, made a move on Dawn, and Dawn took her out. It was tragic and awful and my heart aches for her, for you, for Maggie and Glenn, for Noah. For all of us. But it doesn't give you the right to treat me like this. It doesn't give you the right to pound on your brother when he tries to help you. And for the record, your damn brother saved my ass, and he and Rick got me back to you. To you, you asshole, and I haven't been the one pushing away." 

You took a step away from him, watching the way your words hit home in the growing guilt and horror in his eyes. 

You got it. Grief makes you do shitty things. And if what you smelled on his breath was any indication, he'd found himself some moonshine somewhere as well. He'd told you up front he was a mean drunk, and here you got some proof. 

You got it, but you didn't have to forgive it, and you sure as hell didn't have to tolerate it. 

"The way I see it, Daryl Dixon, you have a couple of options. You can clean yourself up, take the night and tomorrow to think about how you want the rest of your life to go, and we can talk about some of this after we get Noah home. Or you can continue drinking yourself into an asshole and doing what you've been doing. If you choose option B, you can bet your ass you'll be doing it without me."

You walked away from him and went back to camp.


	55. Elbows Deep and Sinking Fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major character death  
> cannon divergence  
> brief, veiled reference to derogatory slurs towards lesbians (not stated overtly)  
> discussion of how a deer gets processed into venison; if you're sensitive about that kind of thing, be warned- not a lot, but enough to put in a warning

You should have gone with them. You were supposed to go with them. 

Hell, you wanted to go with them. 

But after your argument with Daryl, Merle had pulled first Rick and then you aside, telling you he need help to hunt some bigger game for supplies. Rick had thrown you many glances while Merle talked to him, but you ignored them as you stared stonily into the fire. 

Hell, you'd done a good Daryl impression and ignored everyone. 

It wasn't until Rick had dropped into a crouch at your side and said, "Take a walk with me? Check the traps?" that you realized you'd been crying for awhile. 

"Wanna tell me what happened?" he asked as you walked together along the line of wire and empty cans that would be your zombie-warning system. 

"Didn't Merle?" you asked duly. 

"Yeah. Just wanted to see if you wanted to talk." 

"Not really," you told him with a small smile. "Besides, you're here to dis-invite me from the group going to Noah's home tomorrow. It's ok; I get it. I'm probably a bit to distracted for that anyway. I'm not mad." 

"All right," he'd said slowly, and you'd finished walking in silence. 

 

Now he, Tyreese, Noah, Michonne, and Glenn were going to Noah's home. Daryl was out in the woods again, after the short ride with the rest of the group. The group would wait a little down the road, in walkie range of the others. You, Merle, and Tara were going into the woods to see what you could hunt or scavenge for the group. 

You were leaving Carl and Carol in charge of the others. Merle led the way, you and Tara following him. Even Tara's presence, with her easy cheerfulness, didn't really help the raw feeling inside you. 

She was getting better in the woods, though, her steps lighter and less destructive, and you smiled as Merle showed her how he was tracking what he was pretty sure was a deer or two. You gave her instructions on the bow as you went and generally tried to pretend you were ok. 

You weren't, but you'd gotten pretty damn good at faking it till you made it. 

You saw him at one point, shadowing the three of you. He knew you saw him, but he didn't come closer. Just looked at you for a long moment, while you looked at him. Finally you turned away, Merle's sharp whistle a sign you were close to something. 

 

"Aww, dudes, come on!" Tara's voice was thoroughly disgusted, and you found yourself chuckling as you kept working to get the skin off the deer. 

You and Merle had done damn good, you knew, and taken two of them. Your group would either eat like kings tonight, or have something to offer for your place in a new community. 

You'd strung the deer up to dress them down where they were, and even your iron stomach had churned a bit in post-Terminus memory. Now Merle was getting rid of the guts further up in the forest- give the walkers, of which you'd dealt with plenty, something else to smell and look for- and you were elbows deep in the skinning process. 

Fuck Merle and his one hand. You hated this part, and it always somehow ended up on you. 

"Yeah, yeah," you replied to Tara with a grunt as you gave another pull. "Just wait till you're eating this baby. Won't be so gross then!" 

"No, nope," she shook her head, nose wrinkled. "I'm gonna go vegetarian. Oh yeah, starting right now. Vegan, even." 

You heard Merle's step as he came back, and he was chuckling at her too. "Now, now, sugar. You've done damn good so far. Don't get your panties in a twist over how the sausage gets made. Just enjoy the links," he added with a suggestive wink at Tara. 

You rolled your eyes behind his back, but Tara just grinned at him. 

"Yeah, sausage isn't really my thing," she said with a tone so casual it was pointed. "I'm into girls." 

"Hand to God, Merle, if the word 'rug' exits your mouth, I'll skin you next," you warned him, pointing your bloody knife at him. 

"Hey now! Ol' Merle's come a long way since I used language like that!" he protested, and then all three of you were laughing. 

 

The mood was grim when you got back to where the others were waiting with the cars. Carl saw you coming and stepped forward to reach you. 

"They found it," he said. 

You saw the look in his eyes and you knew. 

"It's gone," he added, and you let out a breath. 

Damn. 

"We knew it was a possibility. Any of Noah's family still alive?" you asked, and Carl shrugged. 

"Don't know. Dad's checked in a few times, but not a lot of information." 

You nodded. "Everyone ok here? Anything happen while we were gone?"

Carl shook his head as the four of you kept going. "Not really. Carol's on the radio. Judith had a massive diaper blowout, but Maggie cleaned her up." 

Thank God you'd missed that experience. 

"Abraham and Eugene still aren't speaking, and Abraham was rough on Rosita," he continued, and your gaze shot over to her. "She's fine. She put him in his place. Reminded me of you," he added with a slight grin, and you bumped his shoulder with your own. 

"And-" he glanced between you and Merle and hesitated. "Daryl came in. For a bit." 

"Yeah?" you asked, your tone mild even as your heart pounded. 

"Yeah. Said he'd seen you guys, knew you were tracking some deer. Spent some time talking to Maggie and Carol, then went back out again. YN, what's going on with you two?" He looked so earnest and distressed, and you sighed. 

You tossed an arm around his shoulders and he let you. "Honestly, Grimes, I don't have a clue. People do dumbass things when they're sad, but he's- well, he's gone a bit above and beyond this time, and he's got some serious work to do if he wants to fix things." 

Carl nodded, looking at the ground. "I'm sure he will. He loves you." 

"Yeah, I hope so, kid," you whispered. 

 

Tyreese was dead. 

You couldn't process it; didn't understand how it had happened. 

But it had. 

You'd lost another person, another family member, so soon after Beth, and, well- you didn't think you could handle it. 

But you did. 

Someone had to. 

 

 

After Gabriel had performed a service for Tyreese- just as he had for Beth- while you'd taken turns adding a shovelful of dirt to his grave, you'd lingered. 

It had fallen to Rick to finish burying him, and you'd be damned if you'd leave him alone with that, like everyone else had. The look he'd given you when you leaned on the tree beside him had been so grateful, and the hug he'd pulled you into when he was done had been hard and needy. You'd held onto him as hard as he had to you.

Fuck Dixon and his accusations. These men were your brothers, nothing more, and you'd be damned if you'd change how you acted around them because Daryl had decided to be an asshole. 

The mood was black despair, and even you felt it- darkness clawing its way up from somewhere deep in your core like the grasping outstretched fingers of the dead.   
No one talked that night; no one had the heart to. 

But Daryl walked out of the trees.


	56. Survival, Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> dog death

He didn't come very far that night, just lingered on the edge of camp, crossbow on one side and rifle on the other. You were pretty certain he didn't sleep any that night, because you didn't either. 

Then you were on the road again, all of you. 

He didn't try to speak to you, but he didn't disappear again either, and as the hours passed and you caught the glances and the whispers behind your back, you wanted to scream and rage at everyone there. 

But you didn't. 

Because someone had to hold it together. 

 

When the gas ran out, you went on foot. When the food ran out, you and Merle and Tara went together to try to hunt, and Daryl went on his own, and sometimes you'd find something. 

But mostly you didn't. 

When the water ran low and there was no sign of anything, you and Rick decided to split the group into search parties. 

It didn't do any good. 

 

You were sixty miles from DC. Why you'd chosen to go there, you honestly weren't sure. You, Rick, Merle, and Abraham had put your heads together after being on the road for a day, and that was what you'd decided. 

It was as good a destination as any. 

If you could just live to get there. 

 

There were walkers following you. 

Your group walked- trudged- in silence and thirst and gnawing hunger, and you'd been here before. A look at Rick's face as he carried Judith showed that he was remembering it too, the months before the prison. 

Running from house to house and slowly dying. 

You were dying faster now, because at least then you'd had water. 

But there were walkers following you, and they were massing into a herd. 

"We're not at our strongest," Rick said, and it was the first time one of you had spoken in hours. You looked at him and he tipped his head back, just a touch, toward the walkers behind you. "We'll get 'em when it's best. High ground, something like that. They're not going anywhere." 

You wondered if you were going anywhere, or if you and yours were already just like them, mindless wanderers who couldn't grasp that you were already dead. 

 

Daryl wasn't disappearing, but he still wasn't talking to you either. 

Hell, he wasn't talking to anyone, so you didn't take it personally. 

Merle did. Rick did. Carl did. 

They threw him glares and made pointed comments, especially when you camped for the night. 

You missed his arms around you. You missed sleeping beside him. You missed sleep. 

You missed him.

You pretty much just didn't sleep any more at all, even when you laid down- tucked, at their insistence, between Carl and Judith and Merle, not so close as to make you squirm, but enough to give you some comfort, if you sought it. 

You didn't. 

 

Daryl was trudging with Rick for once. You didn't think he realized that you were just behind him, with Carl, taking a turn hauling Judith. 

She was looking rough, too, even though all of you- all of you- had been giving every last drop of water and scrap of food to her. 

You had to keep her alive. 

"It's been three weeks since Atlanta." Rick's voice was rough and brittle, like gravel over the asphalt you trudged over endlessly. "I know you lost something back there."

Daryl just grunted, turning his head a bit when Judith fussed in your arms, a pitiful low whine. 

"We need to find water, food." 

Well holy hell. If Rick's voice sounded rusty from disuse, Daryl's was a goddamn surprise, since you hadn't heard it in nearly a week. 

"We'll hit something in the road. It's gonna rain sooner or later," Rick said, ever the damn optimist. 

You didn't have any optimism left. Not anymore. 

Not now that you'd lost Daryl. 

 

Things were worse. 

You hadn't thought that was possible. 

Your people moved like walkers now, staggering, slow, disjointed movements as you died. 

You just kept moving. Like the walkers. 

Who were getting worse behind you.

"Rick," you croaked. "Merle." 

They looked at you, and you barely moved your head indicate the crowd following you. You looked at the bridge you were standing on, over a dried-up stream- just a tiny overpass, really, nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

But enough for you all, with the energy you didn't have to waste. 

The guys looked, too, and Rick nodded. 

Plan made. 

It terrified you how easy it was to slip back into this, the perfect sync you'd had with Rick and Carl and Daryl what felt like so long ago; no words needed to decide what to do in any given situation. No energy wasted with speech, or broad gestures. 

You might have loved it, as a glance and a jerk of your head toward the far end of the bridge told Carl to take Judith and the others and rest while you handled it, if it had been Daryl you looked at next. 

But it wasn't. 

Merle hadn't been there before, not for when things had been bad like this, but he slipped into the gaping hole left by Daryl's absence easily enough, and if the edges didn't quite fit together as they should have, it came close. Too close. Depressingly close. 

You were in position and ready- you, Merle, Rick on one side. Sasha, Maggie, Michonne on the other. Abraham and Glenn in the middle, as backup in case any of them got by you.

It was working, walkers going over the edge with a minimum of effort required by any of you. 

Until Sasha pulled her shit, like she'd been pulling since Bob died, and started the fight. 

"Stay in line. Keep it controlled," Rick said, his voice hard and tired. 

And you did. You handled it, but your people were left even more tired and weak than before. 

You wanted to rail at Sasha, and in your mind you did- a little. But you didn't have the strength to bother on the outside. You watched as Sasha and Michonne squared off, and smiled a tiny, smug smile when Michonne won without uttering a word. 

 

"Dad. Look." Carl used more words than he had in days, and your group slowed as the cars came into view. 

"I'm gonna head into the woods. Circle back," Daryl said, and he brushed off Carol's offer of help.

You didn't bother to watch him go. 

 

There was nothing in the cars. No one was surprised. 

You sat on the side of the road, silent, waiting for Daryl to come back so the group could trudge even further on. 

Then he came back, and he was empty handed too, collapsing to sit with the rest of you. 

"I truly do not know if things can get worse," Eugene observed, and GI Jane snorted. 

"They can." 

 

Feral dogs. 

That was one you hadn't expected. 

You hadn't expected Sasha to take them all out, either. 

Or Rick to be the one to decide they were food. 

But hey. Survival, man.


	57. The End of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief mention of self-harm  
> brief mention of alcoholism  
> references to past abuse

You stared at the water, uncomprehending. 

"Rick?' you asked uncertainly, but he was just looking at the water too. 

From a friend, the note said. 

What the hell was going on here? 

Rick finally looked at you, you looked at him, the two of you glanced at Merle and Carl, and you were scanning the woods, weapons out, all four of you. The others followed your lead, and when Daryl walked out of the woods, he joined you. 

You noticed the fresh burn mark on his hand, and your heart clenched. But you didn't say anything. 

If he wanted to talk, he knew where you were, damn it. 

 

There was discussion, as usual, but you knew how it was going to go already. 

Eugene was the one who broke first, snatching one of the bottles as people wasted energy arguing with him. 

"What are you doing, dude?" Tara snapped, but he opened it and started to take a drink. 

Abraham slapped the bottle out of his hand, and you tuned out the argument as you looked at the sky. 

"Rick. Merle," you said, and they looked at you as the thunder rumbled. 

And the rain started to fall. 

Everyone was laughing and crying, heads tilted back or laying down on the ground to let it fall into your mouths. You opened bottles, bags, the empty cans you hauled for walker traps, anything to catch the water. 

And then you saw how bad the storm was going to get. 

"There's a barn!" Daryl snapped, and you were off and moving. 

 

You cleared it easily, and you hated that Daryl was at your side and the easy communication came without a thought. He was at your back, covering you on one side of the barn; Rick and Merle on the other; and you took down the lone walker with an absent-minded arrow. 

Your people moved in, Carl leading them with Judith on his arm, his hat over her head to protect her from the rain, and his gun gripped in his hand. The sight made your heart hurt more. 

Night fell quickly, and your people tried to light a fire. 

"Too wet," Daryl observed, and if you hadn't been so damn drained, you'd have laughed at the irony. As it was, you just rose and walked away, toward one of the walls. 

Carl and Judith were already asleep, Carl holding her against him with one arm and his gun still in his other hand. As you walked the perimeter of the barn, you could hear the low murmur of voices as the others talked softly among themselves. 

Abraham stared at Sasha, taking a long drink from the whiskey that had been the only thing found in the cars. Was that going to be a problem, or would Abraham be the solution? 

Hell if you knew. 

Hell if you cared. 

Rick and Michonne were being cute, sitting on either side of the sleeping children and giving each other puppy eyes, not that they would have admitted it. And Merle, though his eyes tracked your movements, was having a low, intimate conversation with Carol- who was smiling for the first time in days as she looked up at him. 

You did care about that, and it soothed some of the jagged edges in your mind a little to see some of your favorite people being all couple-y with each other. 

But you turned away with a sigh, continuing to walk in the darkness at the edge of the barn. You listened to the storm raging outside, and you knew you were crying a little. 

Surprising, since there still wasn't much in the way of water in your body. 

 

He was waiting for you on your third trip around, in the corner furthest from the group and their fire. 

You looked at him in silence, considering if you wanted to do this now, or if you would just walk past him without a word, as he'd been doing to you for so long. 

"Please don't leave," he whispered, and the naked pain in his voice made you pause. 

You were so angry, but goddamn it, you loved the bastard so much. That pain called to you to do what you could to take it away, but you wouldn't. You couldn't. 

You'd been in this cycle before, once upon a time: something happened, your ex had been hurt somehow; you'd reach out and he'd push you away, be cruel and hurtful and awful until he decided he didn't want to be anymore. Then he'd come crawling to you, full of pain and guilt and asking you to make everything better for him. And you would. Until the next time. 

Never again. You weren't going to be like that again. You weren't a fucking doormat, or a punching bag for someone's emotional issues. 

You continued to stare at him, wordlessly, and he just stared back. Finally you sighed and stepped closer. 

"Don't, Daryl," you said simply. "Don't make this hard. You made your choice. You pushed me away. I tried, and you pushed me away, and you were needlessly cruel about it. You know that. And I know you're sorry and all that shit, but I don't really care. I tried, and you lashed out. You don't get to come back from that just because you're finally ready to let someone help you." 

His head dropped in shame, but not before you saw the look on his face. Your heart broke a little bit more, but you stood firm. 

"I know," he said finally. "I know. And I am sorry. Even if it don't make a difference, I am." 

You nodded, looking beyond him through a gap in the boards of the barn. Lightning crashed outside, the world standing in stark contrast in the flash of brilliant white. 

"It don't mean nothin', but- I didn't mean it. What I said. I was just- just pissed at the world. At Merle, 'cause he'd called me out on my shit, and then was doin' my job. Takin' care of you'n'the others. But I took it out on you, and I- you cain't know how sorry I am, woman." 

You heard it all in his tone and knew he'd be beating himself up over it for a long time. 

It helped, but it wasn't enough. You just nodded again, knowing he would see. 

"I was drunk. I know better. Turn into my dad when I'm drunk," he continued, and that was something you'd known full well. "I take everythin' out on people around me. Merle. You. Anyone I know cares." 

"Why?" you asked softly, finally turning to look at him. 

He glanced at you through the hair that was always in his eyes. "'Cause I hate me, so I want everyone else to as well. I'm a failure at everythin' I do. My daddy was right about that. And when I'm like that- when I'm all messed up over somethin' and I'm drinkin' or whatever, I hate myself so much. Reminders that other people see somethin' in me, whatever it is, just piss me off. And I wanna take 'em down. 'Cause that way I can act like an asshole, I can not give a damn 'bout anyone, and nobody'll care. Nobody'll make me feel guilty 'bout not bein' strong or 'bout lashin' out. Nobody'll give me the damn time'a day, so I don't have to give it for anybody else either. 'S'easier than carin'." 

You nodded, understanding what he meant even if you didn't agree with him at all. 

He looked away from you now, eyes focusing on the group beyond you. "I'll leave ya alone still if that's what you want. What ya need. But I don't wanna. I love you, woman, even if I'm an asshole. Don't expect forgiveness or nothin'. Just wanna try to make it up to you. Somehow." 

You closed your eyes against the tears and slammed a mental hand over the part of you that wanted to just dive into his arms, let him hold you and smooth all the rough edges away. You wanted that so badly, craved and missed him so much-

Even standing this close to him made you hurt. Made you ache to have his scent in your nose and his arms around you. To feel his heartbeat in your ear and know he was yours and you were his. 

But you couldn't. You couldn't just let it go, let him back in. You wouldn't be that person, that victim, again. 

"Daryl..." you whispered, eyes still closed. 

"I- A'ight. I understand," he said when you didn't say anything else. "I'll keep my distance, but I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm done bein' my dad. I'll show you, darlin'; I will. This ain't the end of us," he whispered, and brushed his fingers over your cheek as he walked away, leaving you curled around yourself, staring into the dark. 

And you cried.


	58. We Are the Walking Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

You came back to the fire after a bit. You'd cried all you could, and you knew you looked wrecked from the way Rick's eyes shot from your face to glare across the fire at Daryl. You sighed a little as you sat down beside Merle. 

"You ok, sugar?" Merle asked you gently, and you just closed your eyes and leaned against his shoulder. 

"No," you told him honestly. 

"Yeah," he said softly, and pressed a kiss to your head. "Get some rest, little sister. Merle'll be your pillow whenever ya need." 

Rick started telling some story, and you didn't bother to open your eyes as you listened. 

You were too done. Emotionally, physically, mentally- you were hungry, thirsty, tired, and sad. You didn't have the strength for everyone else's pain and despair. 

Hell, you didn't have the strength for your own. 

"When I was a kid... I asked my grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war. He wouldn't answer. Said that was grown-up stuff, so... so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him." 

That was Rick, just as much a smart ass sometimes as you were. 

"But he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. Every day he woke up, and told himself 'Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war.' And then after a few years of pretending he was dead, he made it out alive." 

Well, shit. That was rough. And treading too close to what you'd been thinking, out there on the road as you slowly died of thirst. 

"That's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do, and then we get to live." 

When? When would it be your turn to just... live? 

You thought you'd found that, in the prison. You'd established a community, a marriage, a family. You'd brought people together and kept them safe and set up rules and planted crops. You'd been living. 

And then you hadn't. Everything you'd done since then was just trying to get that back, and you'd hit wall after wall after wall. Disappointment after disappointment. 

You didn't have the home, the marriage, or the community now. So what did you have? What was the point?

"But no matter what we find in DC, I know we'll be ok. Because this is how we survive. We tell ourselves...." Rick's voice trailed off and you realized you were hanging on his every word, the way you so often did when he was in speech mode like this. 

"We are the walking dead." 

What the fuck? Your eyes snapped open, and of course, you were looking right into Daryl's. He held your gaze for a long moment, his eyes sad and guilty and full of pain, and then he looked at Rick. 

"We ain't them," he said shortly, rising and trying to add more sticks to the fire.

"We ain't them," Rick agreed, leaning forward and trying to get Daryl to look at him again. "Hey. We're not." 

"We ain't them," Daryl repeated, scooping up his crossbow and going to sit, back to the doors, keeping watch over all of you. 

"Hey, Cowboy?" you said, and Rick and everyone else's eyes turned to you. "Your motivational speeches are leaving a lot to be desired these days." 

Smiles cracked all around the fire, and Rick rolled his eyes at you. 

You stretched out along the ground, and Merle patted his leg in invitation. You gave him a little head shake, and he just raised an eyebrow at you. Finally you gave in, laying your head on his thigh and letting your eyes close and sleep, blessedly, take you under. 

 

The herd came sometime in the night, and Daryl was the first to notice. You woke up with a crash of thunder, and sat upright, everyone else having fallen asleep long since. Merle lay on his back, head on his metal arm, and you had somehow shifted around until your head was on his chest. 

You looked around at the sleeping forms of your family as the lightning flashed, and then you heard the dead. 

You were up in an instant, heart in your throat as you saw Daryl. His back was on the barn doors, and he fought for purchase, pushing back against the weight of the dead who tried to get inside. 

"Son of a bitch," you muttered, shooting to your feet and sprinting over to him. He gave you a long, desperate look as you threw your weight against the doors beside him, and you held his eyes. 

Slowly the others joined you, Rick being the next awake. Carl was last, reluctantly laying down Judith on the ground where she cried and adding himself to the pile of your people, all holding your shelter closed against the oncoming storm of dead. 

Her cries were a counterpoint to the rumbling thunder and the hisses and moans and snarls outside, and you focused on her, the reason you were fighting so hard to live. 

The future. 

You had to survive, so someone else could be around to rebuild. You couldn't believe this world was lost to the dead and the evil, not forever. You couldn't. 

 

It was morning, and you were alive. 

Your eyes opened to Rick's sleeping face, Judith awake and burbling in his arms, and you felt Merle's back pressed against yours. You rose, glancing at Glenn curled around Maggie, Carl in his sprawl behind Rick. 

Carol under Merle's arm, something neither of them would ever have allowed if they were awake. Rosita's head on Abraham's chest. The others scattered around; your people, your family, who'd struggled against the dead in the night until you hadn't had to struggle anymore, and one by one the exhaustion had captured all of you. 

Except Daryl. He sat, watching you as he smoked, and you knew he hadn't slept all night. 

You didn't say a word, just gave him a long nod, and his eyes told you it was all for you. 

That he'd been watching over you. 

It hurt, and it helped, but it wasn't enough. 

You moved away as you saw Maggie stir, heading to another part of the barn to lean on the wall and peer outside. 

You heard Maggie tell him he should sleep, and tried to block out their quiet conversation, but Daryl's words struck you. 

"He was tough," Maggie said, and you knew she was talking about Tyreese. 

"So was she," Daryl answered. "She didn't know it, but she was." 

You didn't want to hear that. You were glad they were offering each other comfort- Lord knew they both needed it- but you didn't need to hear him open up to someone else. Not even Maggie. 

Not after he'd driven you away. 

You went to the doors, looking through the gaps, and saw that it was clear. 

 

Trees. Fallen trees all around had taken out or pinned down the herd, surrounding the barn on all sides, with a wide path cut where something had obviously come through the woods. 

Tornado, probably, or something close enough, anyway. 

It should have torn you apart. 

But it didn't. 

Maggie and Sasha had followed you out, Maggie holding the music box Carl had picked up for her, and you nodded at them before heading off into the woods, alone. 

You sat, watching the sun rise, until you heard someone walking, and voice called out to you. 

"Hey. Hi. Good morning. My name is Aaron." 

What the fuck? 

Your bow was drawn and held on him, but his hands were up and he moved slowly. From what you could tell, he was alone. 

"I know. Stranger danger," he said with a slight smile, and you would have laughed if you hadn't been out there alone, with some random dude just walking up to you. 

"Um, I'm a friend. I'd like to talk to the person in charge," he continued, and your eyes narrowed. "Rick, right? Though- I think you're a pretty close second." 

"Why?" you snapped, wondering how he knew your name, how long he'd been watching you, and how many friends he had around. 

"I have good news," he answered, and you laughed.


	59. So Far, Better than Terminus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> brief reference to past rape/non con  
> brief reference to past abuse

Welcome to the Alexandria Safe Zone. Mercy for the lost. Vengeance for the plunderers. 

That sounded a little too familiar, but hey- 

Those who arrive, survive. 

So far anyway. 

 

Aaron had a community. Rick had taken some convincing, made some mistakes, damn near gotten some people killed. You'd met Aaron's frankly adorable partner, Eric, and taken care of him when Rick's dumbass plan to go at night got his ankle broken. 

You'd told Rick off more than a little for that, and he'd had the grace to look ashamed. 

You'd been in the car with Rick, Carl and Judith, Merle, and Michonne when the RV broke down. Goddamn, you had some bad luck with this group and RVs. 

When you were close, you'd gone with Rick and Merle into the woods, hiding weapons in a few convenient spots along the way. Maybe these people were on the up and up- you hoped they were- maybe they weren't. Either way, your tendency to stash supplies and shit outside of your base of operations had saved your asses on more than one occasion.

Like hell were you going to stop now. 

 

But here you were. 

Your turn in the passenger seat, beside Rick- no else ever got to drive, damn it all- when you pulled up. 

Holy shitballs that wall was impressive. You let out a whistle at the sight of it, and then you read the sign. 

"Well, shit, folks. Seems we've arrived," Merle drawled from behind you. 

"Yeah," you muttered. "We gonna survive this one?" 

Rick gave you a serious look as he opened the door. "We don't have any other choice," he said, and you knew the two of you were in sync about this place. 

Merle was neutral. Carl, Michonne, most of the others were excited and hopeful. You, Rick, and Glenn were nervous and on edge. 

Daryl hadn't said anything, just handed over a bag of weapons and what little food you'd been able to spare for you to stash in the woods earlier, his eyes lingering on yours with that sorrow in them you'd gotten all too used to seeing. 

And here you were, and you could hear children laughing behind the gate. 

Well, that was already a far cry from Terminus, at least. 

You looked at your people, standing with Rick at the back of the group as they stood before the gates. There were so many of you. 

You wondered how you were going to keep them all safe, especially once you were inside. 

Maggie, Glenn, and Tara were gathered together, a weird little unit inside your bigger family. Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Sasha. Merle and Carol, talking softly while holding rifles at the ready- your favorite battle couple. Michonne, Carl, Judith, Rick. Father Gabriel and Noah, together and looking lost. And Daryl, standing alone when he should have been at your side. 

Seventeen of you. Seventeen people you'd lay down your life for and with, and here you were, marching into a battle you really weren't sure how to win. 

Hell, you weren't even sure what winning this one would look like. 

You just knew you'd figure it out, and you'd keep these people safe. No matter what. 

 

The gate opened, and Aaron helped Eric hobble in. 

You liked them. A lot.

You hoped you didn't have to kill them. 

The can rattling freaked everyone out, and Daryl dropped the opossum with one shot, scooping it up and the gate opened wider and some dude whose face you could only describe as 'punchable' stared. 

"We brought dinner," Daryl said, and you couldn't hold back the sharp laugh. He looked at you and grinned, and you grinned back for an instant before you remembered the two of you weren't ok. 

The smiles dropped from both of your faces at once, and Mr. Punchable just looked.... scared. 

Fuckin' good. He should be scared. 

"It's ok. Come on in, guys," Aaron said, and you did. 

The gate slid closed behind you with a bang that sounded a little too final, and you moved to the front of the group to stand by Rick. You felt Merle's hand brush your back- ready, little sister- as Mr. Punchable started to speak. 

"Before we go any further I need all of you to turn over your weapons. Stay, you hand them over."

Sure. That was totally happening. 

Not. 

"We don't know if we want to stay," Rick said, taking a step forward and a page from Carl's book as he held a squirming Judith on his hip and his revolver in his other hand. Between that and the massive beard he'd acquired over the time since you left the prison, Rick looked like a fuckin' cave man. 

You were pretty glad he was on your side. 

"It's fine, Nicholas," Aaron told Mr. Punchable. 

"If we were gonna use them, we would have started already," you added, and watched his eyes widen with a smug smirk on your lips. Aaron shot you a look that clearly said 'please shut up now', and your smirk got bigger. 

There was talk. Something about chatting with Deanna, who ran the place. Aaron suggested Rick start. You weren't paying attention, not really, and you heard the sounds of the walker coming up behind you. 

"Sasha," you said over whatever conversation was happening. She glanced up, you nodded at the gate, and she turned. 

One shot, one dead walker's brains on the road. 

One Mr. Punchable looking like he was going to either piss his pants or start measuring his dick against your group's around any minute. Yes, your group now had a collective dick. Metaphors were limited, ok? 

"It's a good thing we're here," Rick muttered, and you snorted in agreement. 

 

They didn't let you all in together. One at a time, to talk to this Deanna. 

Rick's eyes were hard and suspicious still when he came out, but he gave you and the others a nod. 

She saved you for last. The way her eyes lingered over everyone, you knew she could read people. She took in the relationships at a glance, and you could see her mind weighing and calculating things. 

You watched her notice you watching her- ow, your head hurt after that thought-and saw her considering, thoughtful expression. She called Merle in next, and she saw him touch your shoulder as he passed. 

Carl, at your side, looked at you, appearing confused. "Why didn't she want you to come next?" he asked you in a whisper. 

You smiled at him and flicked the brim of his hat, even though he was really getting too old for that gesture of affection. "She's smart. She sees things. She's book ending the group. Rick first, so she'll take me last." 

"Why?" 

"Because we're in charge," Rick told Carl quietly, giving you a fond smile as he took Judith from his son. 

 

 

She was clean. Her office was filled with comfortable furniture, books, fuckin' red taper candles. 

You sat calmly, not saying anything, and she stared. 

"You're different from Rick," she said finally, and you smiled coldly. 

"Not as much as you'd think," you told her, seeing a flash of Rick's blood-covered face after ripping a man's throat out with his teeth and remembering the way blood had felt running into the crevice of your ear after you'd slit the throat of a another. 

Remembering the casual way you'd passed Rick the knife so he could stab the dead man over and over and over again, and you'd thought nothing of it at all.

"Oh, you are. He's a cave man, constantly searching for danger. He checked the windows and looked all around the room before I could get him to sit down," Deanna said with a chuckle. "You're different. You can settle." 

"Maybe," you allowed. "But I still see." 

"See what?" Deanna asked, pleasantly, and you leaned back. 

Let's dance then, honey. 

"Politician. Senator? No, Congresswoman," you corrected, and she opened her hands in that consummate politician's gesture. "You haven't been out there, not even for a day. Directed here by the army, weren't you? The people under your command are weak. That's ok. Mine are strong. Two children, both grown. Husband. Good talker. Observant. You can read people. This place is safe, but mostly because of luck. Not at all because of strength." 

"Very good," she said softly. "Except that most of those things I've discussed with the others. So how much of that did you see, and how much did you hear from them?" 

"Ask Aaron. We didn't talk much out there," you shot back. She nodded. 

"Why are you so distrustful?" she asked, and you laughed humorlessly. 

"You seem a little too much like the last politician I met. Called himself the Governor, anyway. Don't know if he actually was a politician or not." 

"What happened?" 

-a hand, slamming your face down into a table; Michonne's sword gleaming near Hershel's neck; blood flowing over your hands as you slit the one-eyed asshole's throat and creeping down under your shirt-

"A lot of bad. He's dead. I killed him," you said bluntly, watching for her reaction. She merely nodded. 

"We need people who've lived out there," she said, sitting forward and leaning toward you. "I told Rick already, your group is the first we've considered bringing in in a long time." 

"You shouldn't, you know." 

"Really? That's what he told me. Why not?" she asked, and your smile didn't reach your eyes. 

"People are dangerous. Especially the strong. Only the strong are left out there." 

She chuckled. "He said something similar. I asked him if he was telling me not to let his people in, or if he was already looking after the place." 

You said nothing, knowing very well it was probably both. 

Goddamn Cowboy. Too good for his own good, too ruthless for anyone else's. 

"He said he'd killed people. You say you've killed someone. I'd say it was more than one." 

You laughed grimly. 

-A stab to the brain, a gun in your hands, Terminus people falling dead in a spray of bullets. A short, brutal fight that resulted in a sore side and the healing cut on your cheek, and two more dead at your hand- 

"That'd be correct, Congresswoman," you said scornfully. 

She shook her head. "Maybe I was wrong. I thought you'd be easier than them. Easier to convince than Rick." 

Your laugh was long, loud, and genuine. 

"Oh, honey. You got that one entirely wrong," you said when you got your breath back, and her lips were quirked in a smile. 

"Yes, so I see. You're stubborn, aren't you? And exceptionally good at reading people. So am I. If I hadn't won re-election, I was going to be a professional poker player. I'm not kidding." 

"No, I don't suppose you are," you agreed, and for some reason, you were warming to her. "Let's get down to business, shall we. Leader to leader. What do you want from my people?" 

She sat back in her chair, drumming on the arm of it absently with her fingers. "I believe I was wrong twice. You and he are alike. He asked me the same thing. Though," she added with a lift of her eyebrow. "I was under the impression he was your leader. Until I talked to your people, that is." 

"Yeah, well," you shrugged. "Rick makes the hard decisions. I carry them out." 

"No, it's more than that," she mused. "Rick might make the hard decisions, but you're the one who tells him the choices. And you're the one who calls him out when he makes the wrong one." 

You eyed her now, the warmth draining out of you. "What do you want from us?" 

"I want you to help this community survive. I want you to make us strong, like you are. And I want you to help us thrive," she answered, honestly. 

You stood now, and paced to the windows. Looking through them, you took in the solar panels, the neat houses and tended lawns. "How does this place work?" 

"It was the future of sustainability. Sewer, solar panels, water sources. All for the low $800,000s." 

Sustainability. Once upon a time, that'd been a word pretty heavy in your vocabulary. Then the Governor had wrecked it all. 

"What do you want from me, specifically?" you asked finally, and she came and joined you at the window. 

"Cooperation. Some form of work- I'll give you a job, same as everyone else. What did you do before all this?" She asked. 

"I was a camp councilor. Then I was an abused girlfriend. Now I'm neither," you murmured, not looking at her. 

"Interesting," she said softly. "No wonder they're protective." 

"Who?" you asked, curious, and it was her turn to laugh. 

"Everyone. They speak of you with such warmth. You're the heart. If you trust me, you'll convince Rick. The two of you will convince the rest. I thought it hinged on Rick, but it doesn't, does it? Not really. So tell me, what do I have to do to show you we're serious? We're... legit?" Deanna crossed her legs in her chair, body language saying she was open, honest, trustworthy. Her eyes said the same thing, but there was a guarded edge to them. 

But the words, the body language- they matched. 

It was better than Terminus. 

"I've got a few questions of my own," you answered her, and she gestured you to go ahead. 

"How many walkers have you killed?"


	60. The First Night Is the Hardest. You Hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> brief mention of past abuse

You turned in your guns. Deanna reassured you they were still yours, there for you whenever you went outside the walls. They just stored them inside for safety. 

You got to keep the knives, the bows, Michonne's sword. So that was something, at least. 

The sheer amount of firepower from your people had had you grinning and the Alexandrians squirming, especially Mr. Punchable. 

Plus, you noticed, Carol was being odd. She had this smile that didn't match her eyes, and her movements were jerky and hesitant. Carol was acting like the Carol you'd met, you realized. The one fresh off an abusive relationship, who didn't know how to be strong. 

You'd need to have a chat with her about that later. She glanced at you as the woman wheeled the bin full of guns away, and you gave her a tiny nod. She nodded back, covering it with that not-smile smile. 

 

"All of them?" Rick asked, and you were as incredulous as he was. Three houses, side by side, looking clean, cared for, and utterly untouched by the zombie apocalypse hellscape outside. 

"At your disposal," Aaron agreed. "Listen, I know you're still feeling us out, but I'm glad you came. Anyway, Deanna's asked everyone to give you your space so they aren't all coming at you at once. Take your time, explore. If you need anything, you call me." 

Your eyebrows shot up and Rick twitched at your side. 

Aaron realized what he'd said and backpedaled, and you'd grinned at his expression. "I'm five houses down," he finished lamely, and your grin had become a laugh. 

"Got it, Lover Boy," you teased, and he gave you an odd look. 

"You'll get used to that," Rick said, and you heard the amused weariness in his voice. "She does it to everyone." 

"What does she call you? Do you do it for all of your people?" Aaron asked, clearly intrigued. 

You grinned. "Rick's Cowboy. Michonne's the Samurai. There's Big Red, GI Jane, and Mullet. Ponytails, Speed Racer, Farmer's Daughter. Father Disturbing, though that one's been mostly just in my own head. Used to have a few others, too," you said softly, getting sad at the thought of the dead.

Apocalypse Barbie. Officer Unfriendly. Queen Bee. 

Wait, maybe you weren't so sad after all. 

Aaron smiled at you. "I guess Lover Boy's not that bad. I'll take it. And I'll leave you and your people to it," he added, and headed down toward his own house. 

 

There were empty picture frames on the bench just inside the house. 

The world had ended, you'd done some crazy shit, and here you were in a place with furniture, decorations, clean floors, and empty picture frames. You looked at Rick, Carl, and Merle, who were checking out the houses with you, and they had the same expressions you did. 

But the water ran and was hot, and wasn't that a miracle? 

You'd taken turns cleaning up, a pretty quick task with the three houses with three bathrooms each. Amazingly enough, the water held out. 

You'd burst out laughing when you saw Rick, shaved and getting a haircut from a woman you didn't recognize when you came out of the bathroom. 

Your own hair had grown long again, and it hadn't been cut since you'd hacked it off when a walker's hand got caught in it. You'd turned down her offer to do yours next, but thanked her for her kindness. 

 

Daryl cleaned the possum on the front porch of the house you, Rick, the kids, Michonne, and Merle had set up shop in. The house you knew full well all of you would end up sleeping in, at least for a few nights. 

He didn't look like he'd bothered to shower. 

He'd looked up when you stepped out onto the porch, clean and wearing clean clothing, including a plaid shirt from Jessie, the haircut woman. 

You remembered the first time you'd worn one of his flannel shirts, a mistake that you'd pulled from the clothesline outside your tiny tent, while he'd cleaned squirrels after you'd argued. 

God, you didn't even know why you'd been fighting. You hadn't even been together then, not really, but what you'd been then was so much better than what you were right now. 

He didn't say anything to you, just a glance over you and then away, and damn it hurt like a stab through the heart. 

Rick came out just behind you, Judith on his hip, and touched your back as he joined you at the railing. You didn't look at Daryl, but you felt his eyes on you and heard his voice in your head. 

-Figure'd it'd be Rick- 

Fuck you, Daryl Dixon. 

Then Carol came out on the porch, and you gestured her over to you and Rick. 

"What's up with you, Carol?" you asked, and she just gave that vacant smile. 

"Me? I'm just poor defenseless Carol," she said mildly, and Daryl snorted from the steps. 

"Stop it, pookie," she ordered him. "I cook, I clean, and I'll have these people telling me everything they know without knowing who they're talking to." 

"You're a good woman, Carol." You slapped her on the shoulder even as your stomach lurched at 'pookie'. "They took our weapons and now they're trying to split us up," you said to Rick grimly, and he nodded. 

"We'll all stay in one house tonight." 

 

Deanna stopped by, and her reaction to Rick's beardless face had you cracking up. 

"Staying together. Smart," she said, eyes lingering on the crowd setting up shop in the living room. 

"Nobody said we couldn't," Rick said. 

"You're a family," she said simply. "It never ceases to amaze me how people from completely different backgrounds, with nothing in common, an become that. But you have." 

"Everyone says you gave them jobs," Rick said, and Deanna nodded. 

"Yeah. Part of this place. Looks like the communists won after all." 

Rick chuckled at that. "Well, you didn't give me one." 

"Yes, I did. I just haven't told you yet. Same with Michonne," she continued. "Closing in on something for Sasha." 

She looked at Merle and Daryl and sighed. "And I'm just trying to figure the Dixons out. But I will," she said with a glance at Rick and a soft smile. "YN too. I've got some ideas for her." 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly, shooting you an amused glance. "The Dixons are hard to figure. All three of them." 

Deanna's eyes flicked from you to Merle to Daryl, and she nodded. "I should have known," she said softly. "Sister?" 

Merle laughed. "Sure, honey. Why not." 

"She's my wife," Daryl growled, and you shot him a glare from across the room. 

"Sure ain't actin' like it these days, are ya, little brother?" Merle muttered at him, and Daryl was across the room and in his face in two seconds. 

"What'd you say to me?" he asked his brother belligerently. 

You gritted your teeth as Deanna's observant eyes took it all in. "Boys!" you snapped. "We have company." 

"Yeah, whatever," Daryl muttered, and strode out of the room toward the kitchen with a stormy look at you. 

"Well," Deanna said. "That explains a lot, actually. You look good," she added to Rick as you took two steps forward. Rick's arm shot out, blocking your path, and Deanna gave you a smile and ducked out the door. 

Well, fuck. 

 

No one spoke for a long moment after Deanna left. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

"Merle, what the fuck," you said finally into the silence. 

"Sorry, little sister," he drawled, but he didn't sound sorry at all. He sounded pissed. "I'll talk to him." 

"No," you snapped. "We do not need to be having a Dixon discussion our first fucking night here. And we do not need to be airing our dirty laundry in front of the outsiders- outsiders who decide if Carl and Judith get to keep a goddamn roof over their heads and a wall between them and the walkers! Besides, what's goin' on between me and Daryl is none of your business!" 

More silence, and you opened your eyes to see everyone else shifting uncomfortably and trying to look like they weren't listening. 

"What?" you snapped, and looks were exchanged as Merle just crossed his arms and gave you that look. "No, Merle Dixon, it is not your business!" 

"I heard what he said to you!" Merle roared back, and the unexpected volume made you jerk a bit. He saw, even as you aborted the movement- it was Merle, for god's sake- but when you jerked, he flinched. He turned away, dropping his arms and taking a deep breath. 

"Merle-" you walked to him, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face into his back. "Sorry. It's just been- a day." 

"It's a'ight, sugar. I'm sorry too. Shouldn't goad him like that. It's yalls business what ya do about it. Just pisses me the hell off, how he's actin'," Merle's voice went from soft to a growl at the end. 

"You're not the only one, Merle." 

"Oh for fuck's sake, Cowboy-" you started, turning around to look at him. 

"No, stop," Rick held up a hand, coming toward you with that serious-concerned look he got. "I'm not going to get involved in your marriage- Lord knows I know how things like that can end- and I don't know what happened. Not really. Things have been rocky between you guys for awhile now, and you need to work it out. But we're your friends. Your family. We get opinions, and we've all seen how he's been lately." 

You were getting angry. "You don't know what you're talking about, Rick," you snapped at him, eyes flashing. 

No one got to attack Daryl but you. 

"Maybe I don't. But I still think it," he said agreeably, and your teeth ground together. "Either way, you're right- we don't need to be airing our shit in front of them. Merle, keep it under wraps. Now, let's all try to get some rest, all right?" 

You glared around the room of uncomfortable people and nodded. 

"I'm gonna take watch. I'll be on the porch," you said shortly, and ducked out the door with your bow before anyone could say anything else to you.


	61. Time to Punch the Clock and Make the Casseroles

He found you a few hours later. 

"You should get some rest," he said from behind you. You were perched on the railing, in the corner, bow in your hands and fingers moving restlessly over the grip. 

"I'm fine," you told him. You were so not in the mood for another round. 

"No, ya ain't." He moved over to you, leaning on the other side of the corner post from you and watching the road the same as you. 

"How would you know?" you muttered, not bothering to try to hide the tear tracks on your face. You were cried out, as far as you could tell, but the evidence was still there. 

Whatever. He knew he'd hurt you. Not like you had anything left to hide. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. You shrugged. 

It was quiet for a long time, just the sounds of insects and night birds and the light breeze rustling the trees. 

"Ain't like you to give me the cold shoulder. More my move'n yours," he said finally. 

You glanced at him, and he wasn't watching the road anymore. He was studying you. 

God, you missed him. 

It hurt to have him this close. 

Everything hurt. 

"Don't have anything to say, Dixon," you said, and you saw him flinch. 

Like maybe the name you'd been calling him since the beginning hurt him to hear as much as it hurt you to say. 

"I miss ya," he said, so softly you almost didn't hear him. 

But you did, and you felt the tears start to fall again. 

"She said somethin' to me. While we were there. She said she was gonna die. That'd she'd be gone some day. I told her not to, but then she-" be broke off, shaking his head, and you looked away again. 

"'You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon.'" He continued after a minute. "That's what she said to me. And she was right. Soon's she was gone, I missed her. When I thought I'd found her again, that I'd get her back- it was like all that sadness was gone, and the world was gonna get brighter. Then she was gone again, and she was right. I still miss 'er." 

You shifted slightly on your perch. "Why are you telling me this?" you asked him finally. 

It wasn't that you didn't get it. You missed Beth too. Missed her sweet smile, her voice as she sang or talked to Judith. Her laughter and flushed cheeks at girl's nights. 

You just didn't know why he was telling you about it now. You didn't want to be sitting here in the dark, missing someone who was right beside you, and hear him tell you how he missed someone else. 

"Because the way I miss her ain't got nothin' on the way I miss you. You're right here, close enough to touch, and I cain't. It ain't never been like this between us, woman, and I- I don't know what to do. I don't know how to think or act or anything. I said I'd leave ya alone, and I'm tryin', but I don't know how to do this without you. You've been by my side, in my life, just a whisper away, since I saw you on the side of that road. And I don't know what to do now that you're gone." 

You closed your eyes as he spoke, trying to swallow down the pain, and didn't say anything. 

There was a rustle of movement, and then the softest brush of his lips on your cheek, his hand over your hair. 

When you opened your eyes, he was gone, but the last thing he said lingered in your ears. 

"I love ya. Don't you forget it." 

 

The next morning, you explored. 

You and Merle took to the streets together, you casting a glance at Daryl, who was curled in the corner of the porch. Rick hesitated, nodding you on ahead of him, and you went. 

You hated the look in Daryl's eyes as you left; hated the lost broken discomfort you saw there. 

But you left. 

You and Merle walked around, your bow on your back and knives at both of your hips. People gave you odd looks as you wandered, but you mostly ignored them. 

Merle got increasingly jumpy as you went, though neither of you spoke much. When you found your way to the gazebo, you leaned against the railing with a sigh. 

"What's up, Merle?" you asked him as he paced a little beside you. 

"Nothin', little sister," he drawled, but it was his asshole voice- something you hadn't heard in a long, long time. You turned and set your elbows against the railing, crossing your feet at the ankles and leveling him with a long stare. 

After a moment, he shook his head at you with a fond smile. "You read us Dixon boys too well, darlin'. It's the same thing that's got that idiot brother of mine hidin' at that big fancy house. Dixons don't belong in a place like this. With people like this." He nodded to everything around you, and you glanced at the subdivision with a new take. 

It was a rich man's paradise, one you and your family couldn't have afforded before the walkers. For Daryl and Merle? This was hell. 

Shit. 

"Aww, don't get that guilty look on your face, sugar. It ain't gonna hurt ol' Merle none to be uncomfortable for awhile. Once we settled in a little bit, I'll find a way to get myself in them woods and shoot somethin' a time or two and all'll be well," he said with a smile, but you noticed the way it didn't quite meet eyes that kept moving, shifting constantly. 

"Merle. It's ok. I hate it here too," you said softly, and his eyes shot to yours. You snorted at him. "Do you think I'm just going to settle down here and live my merry life? No. We built something out there, with our bare hands. We kill walkers and kick ass and rescue people. This?" You waved a hand at the nicely mowed grass, the perfectly kept houses of this bizarre suburban relic from before. "These people are so damn weak it's almost hilarious. Almost. Everything about this makes my skin crawl." 

He snorted. "Well, we are in agreement there, darlin'." 

"We done out here, Merle? Wanna go back to the house, shoot the shit, and wait for Congresswoman Deanna to try to figure us Dixons out?" 

He grinned at you for real this time, a flash of pride as you claimed the Dixon name like a badge of honor. To you, it was. 

"Hell, that'll be somethin' to celebrate if she does. Let's go, little sister." 

 

Carl and Rick were talking in Carl's room as you jogged up the steps. 

"Do you like it here?" Carl asked Rick. 

"I think it seems... nice." 

"Yeah. I like it here," Carl said, and you paused with a guilty smile just outside his door. 

Kid deserved everything this place had to offer and more. You just wished it wasn't so damn weird. 

"I like the people. But- they're weak," Carl continued, and you leaned against the wall to listen. "And I don't want us to get weak, too."

"We won't," you said, coming around the corner. They looked up at you, and you smiled at them. "Came to get you. Carol says it's time for dinner. Kid. We won't ever be weak. We're the survivors."

 

You were checking your weapons on the porch the next morning. Daryl came out and flopped down with an anxious glance around. You felt yourself tense, but a glance at his face kept you from saying anything or leaving. 

You wouldn't be cruel to him, no matter how bad things were between you. 

He caught you looking and tried to give you a slight smile. "Sorry, woman. Need to clean my bow. Ya mind?" 

You shook your head. "Don't like it here, do you?" 

He grunted, ducking his face away. "Too damn suburban. I don't belong in a place like this." 

"That's what Merle said," you agreed. You kept glancing at him from the corner of your eye as you both worked in silence. "Daryl-" you started, but then the door opened and out stepped- 

You burst out laughing. "Carol. What the actual hell?" 

She gave you a look. "Time to punch the clock and make the casseroles," she said, straightening the blue sweater over her shoulders. 

You glanced at Daryl, who was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. "What?" 

"Make dinner for the older people, moms who need a break, people who can't cook. Get to meet a lot of the neighbors that way." Her tone had that forced cheer she was using as a cover. 

Dear God, she looked just like a picture-perfect useless, harmless, bake sale mom. 

Daryl snorted. "All right." 

Carol met your eyes for a minute, her eyebrow twitching up at the two of you sitting together. 

You just gave her a cool look back before your lips twitched again. "Give 'em hell, Carol. They won't know what hit them." 

"Have you taken a shower yet?" she asked Daryl, shooting you a grin while he was looking away. 

He just grunted. 

She narrowed her eyes at him and you did your best not to laugh. "Take a shower. I'm gonna wash that vest. We need to keep up appearances, even you," she said as she started down the stairs. 

"I ain't startin' now," Daryl shot back. 

"I'm gonna hose you down in your sleep!" she called cheerfully as she walked away. 

"She looks ridiculous," he muttered to you as she went, and that was it. You were howling with laughter, and he glared at you. 

Then, after a minute, he joined in.


	62. We'll Just Take This Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> slight cannon divergence

You were walking the fence alone, nearing the gate, when Glenn, Tara, and Noah came through it with Mr. Punchable and some guy you immediately and instinctively hated. Glenn looked ready to take a fool down, and you bee-lined to intersect with them. 

"You three need new gigs!" Mr. Punchable called, and you shot him an incredulous look. 

Glenn? Tara? Hell, Noah? Need a gig other than supply runs? 

These guys? 

"Speed Racer," you called as you reached them, and Glenn gave you a look that could have burned a house up. "Whoa there. What's up?" you asked him quietly as he came to a stop in front of you. 

"You're not ready for runs yet," Douchebag said, and you just laughed at him. 

"Yeah, pretty sure you got that backwards," Glenn snapped, and Ponytails' face was priceless. 

"What happened?" you asked, voice going hard at their expressions. 

Mr. Punchable and Douchebag ignored you, and you felt anger coiling somewhere deep inside. Douche shot you a glance as he grabbed Glenn's arm. "Look, we got a way of doing things around here." 

"You tied up walkers!" Glenn snapped. 

Wait, what? 

You shifted to glare at them, putting yourself at Glenn's back. "They what?"

"It killed our friend! Look, I'm not having this conversation," Douche said, turning away. 

You really wanted to punch this guy in the nuts. His friend, too. 

From the looks on Glenn and Tara's faces, you were not the only one who felt that way. 

"You obey my orders out there!" Douche continued, and you laughed again. 

"Well then, we're just as screwed as your last run crew," Glenn snapped, and Douche got right up in his face. 

"Say that again," he said softly. 

"Back off, Aiden," Tara said. 

And then Douchebag made his first mistake. He pushed Glenn. 

Glenn held it together the first time, just staring the man down, but then he did it again. Mistake #2.

"No one's impressed, man," Glenn said, jaw tight. "Walk away." 

"Better do it, Douchebag," you said, voice amused. Douche looked at you for a moment and back at Glenn. 

"Aiden! What is going on?" Deanna's voice called, but you didn't look away from Douche or Mr. Punchable. 

"This guy's got a problem with the way we do things," Aiden said cockily as she appeared at his side. "Why'd you let these people in?"

"Because we actually know what we're doing out there," Glenn snapped. 

Wow, Speed Racer was pissed. You didn't think you'd heard him sass someone this bad in a long time. 

"It ain't worth it, Speed Racer," you drawled, laying it on Dixon thick. Douche's eye twitched. "They don't know. They can't know, sitting here with their thumbs up their asses like pampered princesses behind their walls." 

Huh, maybe you were a bit pissed too.

That was it. Aiden threw a punch, and Glenn ducked it and landed him on the ground with one hit as Deanna yelled. 

You grinned, but you forgot about Mr. Punchable for just long enough for him to slip past your guard. He swung at you with an open hand, and the slap stung as it landed on your cut cheek. 

"Oh, that was a mistake, asshole," you said, as you caught sight of a leather vest moving like a blur, with Merle just behind Daryl. 

"Leave it!" you called to them, and Daryl stopped, panting and glaring. Merle was smirking, the bastard. He knew what was coming.

You just grinned at the guy, who saw the two of them and glared. 

"You really shouldn't underestimate opponents like that," you told him conversationally as he swung again and you ducked it. "See, you wanna hit like you mean it. Like this." 

You kicked him, square in the gut, and sent him staggering backwards in Daryl's ready arms. 

"That's enough! I said, that is enough!" Deanna was screaming, and Daryl pinned Mr. Punchable down as you saw Rick and Carl running in from outside. Rick grabbed at Daryl. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's not do this now," Rick was saying, and Daryl just shrugged him off. 

"Tell him! He hit her!" 

Rick looked at you and you shrugged. 

"I'm fine. He slapped me. You know, like a bitch," you said, feeling your own anger rising. "So I kicked him. We didn't start this, Rick. Douchebag over there that Glenn handled and Mr. Punchable here did." 

You turned to find Michonne all up in Douchebag's face as Rick hauled Daryl off Mr. Punchable. 

"You wanna end up on your ass again?" she asked, eyes hard, as Glenn stood untouched in the exact spot where you'd left him. 

"Badass, Speed Racer," you told him under your breath as you let Rick and Deanna square off. His lips twitched at you. Daryl paced behind Rick as Deanna raised her voice. 

"I want everyone to hear me, ok? Rick and his people are part of this community now. In all ways, as equals." 

Yeah, sure, more like as betters, but you weren't going to quibble. 

"Understood?" she snapped at Douche, who gave a cocky grin and let his eyes linger on you and Glenn. You gave him a smile and little wave, and Glenn snorted beside you. 

Michonne tossed you a warning look which you chose to ignore. 

"Understood," Douche said, and Mr. Punchable muttered the same with a glare at you. You just blew him a tiny kiss, and he glared harder. Glenn chuckled as Merle's hand came down on your arm. 

"Settle it down, little sister," he hissed in your ear. "Now is not the time."

"It's always the time to bait assholes, Merle," you shot back with a grin. 

Deanna was still talking, but you ignored her until the two of her people were gone. Deanna turned to Rick. 

"I told you I had a job for you. I'd like you to be our constable," she said, and you started laughing. 

After a moment, Merle joined in, and the two of you were leaning against each other while everyone else watched. Michonne and Glenn were both grinning, too, and Daryl was watching you with an expression you couldn't read under the seething anger in his eyes. 

"Oh, that's perfect. No, really, Deanna, that's perfect. And you want Michonne to be his deputy, don't you?" you said when you could breathe again, and she gave you an unreadable look. 

"Yes, I do. What do you say?" 

"Ok," Rick said after a moment, and Michonne smiled. 

"Yeah, I'm in," she agreed. 

Daryl scoffed. 

"Got any ideas for us Dixons yet?" you asked Deanna, as Daryl came over to stand closer to you. 

"Honestly? Yes. But ideas only. I need to think on you three some more. I have a feeling you're going to be trouble," she said wryly, and you put on your best 'who, me?' expression. 

"Well, you know where to find us," you told her.

 

You were on the porch again that evening when Daryl joined you. You glanced at him as he settled on the rail and lit a cigarette. 

"You a'ight?" he asked quietly. 

You nodded. "He barely got a hit on me. Frankly, it was insulting." 

"That ain't all I meant." 

You flashed him a slight smile, holding his worried gaze. "This place could be good for us. We have to try. So, we try. For them, if not for us. You, me, and Merle could go live in the woods and be happy. They can't." 

"You'd be happy livin' in the woods with us two rednecks? When ya could be here?" 

"My name's Dixon too, isn't it?" you answered, leaning your head back against your corner post. 

"Is it?" His voice was a whisper, and you met his sad eyes with a sigh. 

"Never stopped loving you, Daryl," you said softly. 

He stared at you, and you stared back, and something filled the air between you. He started to move, or maybe you did, and-

Rick opened the door and walked onto the porch, and whatever it was was gone. 

"Looks good on you, Cowboy," you told him with a grin as you checked out the uniform. 

He tugged at the jacket and smiled at you faintly. "Thanks. We good?" he asked both of you. 

"Yeah," Daryl grunted. "You a cop again?"

"I'm trying it on for size," Rick answered. 

"So we're staying?" you asked. 

"I think we can start sleeping in our own homes. Settle in," Rick said, giving you a smile. 

"We can't let our guard down, Rick," you told him seriously. "We can't get soft." 

"That's not in us anymore. We won't get weak. We'll make it work. And if they can't make it?" Rick smiled at you, his predator's smile, and yours matched his. 

"Then we'll just take this place."


	63. Dog Food Or A Pasta Maker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> discussion of past emotional/psychological/sexual abuse

Three days in this place and you were pacing like a caged tiger across the porch that evening. Your people, your family, had dispersed to separate homes- three of them, close together, but still. 

They weren't all under your eye. You couldn't protect them all. 

So you watched. 

You, Merle, Daryl, Carol, and to your dismay Father Disturbing all had one place. Maggie, Glenn, Tara, Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene had another. Rick, Michonne, the kids, and Noah had the third, though Carol spent two thirds of her time over there taking care of Judith. Father Gabriel spent most- if not all- of his time in the church, so it was mostly just you and the Dixon boys, rattling around the big house. 

Still without job assignments. 

You got why your boys were hard to pin down. Really, you did. But you? Hell, you could do anything. 

You'd practically run the whole damn prison by yourself, at least according to your friends. 

"How many nights you gonna stay out here? Been three days and nothin' happened yet." 

You glanced over your shoulder while you paced. "Only takes one time, Dixon. And we had us a nice little brawl the other day." 

"Hardly a brawl. Barely a fight," Daryl said with a slight smile. "Besides, ya didn't answer my question." 

"However many I have to." You paced to one end of the porch, looking down at the other two houses where your people slept. You had chosen the house closest in, so you and the boys could be the first line of defense. Rick's house was the last in line, closest to the wall. 

Bookends. Guardians.

Against what, you didn't know. 

But you watched. 

You'd seen and overheard the exchange between Rick and Jessie's- Haircut Lady's- husband the night before. That was going to be trouble, and you were pretty annoyed with Rick's little crush on Jessie when Michonne was right there at his side. 

When you slept- which admittedly hadn't been much- you slept on the porch, curled in the fucking porch swing with your bow in your hands. 

"Gonna run yourself into the ground like this." Daryl came up and leaned against the railing, his back to the road, and watched you as you paced. "Nothin' happened yet. People're fine. What do you think is gonna happen?" 

"Nothing. Something. Hell, I don't know. That's the point," you snapped, whirling in place and glaring at him. He just smirked at you a little. 

"It's pissin' you off that she ain't given you a job yet, huh?" 

"Fuck you, Dixon," you snapped, and the smile fell off his face. Something moved behind his eyes as he pushed off the railing and took a step toward you, making you shiver. 

"Don't think I ain't thought about it, woman. Hell," he whispered, getting up in your space as you froze, heart pounding. He licked his lips, and you couldn't look away. 

God, you missed this man so much. 

You'd forgotten what he could do to you with just a look. Just a touch. 

"I could make all this shit between us disappear, couldn't I?" he went on, reaching up to trail his fingers lightly over your face. "Wouldn't take much. I know ya too damn well." 

He dropped his hand, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and stepped back, leaving you struggling to breathe and to remember why exactly you were pissed off at him. 

"Wouldn't be right, though," he said, and that dangerous look was replaced with one of guilt and sadness. "I screwed up. It's not just the pushin' ya away. You'd forgive that too easy. It's what I said. About Merle, about Rick." 

Oh. Yeah. That's why. 

\- Shoulda known I'd find ya hittin' on my girl. Didn't think she'd let you, though. Figured it'd be Rick before it was you. Don't think I ain't seen you in camp. Now you're hangin' off my brother and Rick all the damn time. -

He was looking at the boards of the porch, chewing on his thumb a little. "That shit ain't right. And not just 'cause of what you told me, 'bout how it was before. With the asshole." 

He growled the last part out and you flinched a little. 

No fair bringing up the ex. 

Aw, hell. 

No, it was fair. It was fair because he was right. Your ex had often accused you of being a whore. Not in so many words, but he'd say left and right that you were flirting, leading other men into hitting on you, whatever; and he'd use that as his excuse. He'd done it over and over, until he'd shaped your thoughts and you were terrified to even speak to another man when he was around. 

Daryl was right; that's where most of this mess came from. You'd worked hard to lose that mentality of self-blame, worked hard to establish real and lasting friendships with members of the opposite sex, and he'd made you question your behavior again. He'd made you look at your actions and question if you were wrong, when it was him in a snit and trying to drive you away. 

"It wouldn't be right even without that. You ain't done nothin' wrong, woman. Ya ain't. I've seen you, givin' me these guilty glances when I'm around and you interact with Rick and Merle, hell, even Glenn'n the others." He shook his head, sighing a little and kicking the lowest rung of the railing with the toe of his boots. 

"It was all me. You never question my friendships. I mean, ain't like I got a ton of 'em, but Carol. Beth. You never looked a damn bit sideways at anythin', and I went straight for that. Cause I knew it'd hurt ya," he admitted. "And I'm sorry." 

"I questioned Beth a little," you whispered, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. He was saying everything you needed him to, and oh God, you wanted to be in his arms right now. 

But you couldn't. You just couldn't, damn it. 

"Naw. You didn't. You questioned why I wasn't talkin'. I'm the one who said you were jealous," he said with a toss of his head. "Started goin' for the throat even then." 

Well, hell. He was right. That was how that had gone. Fuck. 

"Listen, I ain't tryin' to push or nothing. Just wanted to tell you, I get it. I know." He hopped up onto the railing and pulled out a cigarette. 

"Go inside. Lay down in a damn bed and get some sleep. I'll keep ya safe." 

 

The damn walker had a W carved in his skull, and you had a weird fucking feeling that was important.

You didn't have a goddamn clue what it meant or why, but still. 

Rick had come by the next morning, and it pissed you off immensely, but sleeping in a bed had done you a world of good. Rick had woken you up, looking like he'd have rather shot himself in the foot, and grinned when you didn't come up swinging. 

He'd been summoning you and Carol and Daryl to some damn secret meeting in the woods, to talk about weapons and a plan. 

Carol wanted to break into the armory and steal your guns back. You thought it was a waste of time, because you'd left so many outside the walls, but hey. If it made her happy, you didn't give a shit. She was still doing her crazy undercover not-Carol act, and you were getting a little scared- isn't this how serial killers were born?- but you had to admit, it was nice to have your ace in the hole. Your blade in the dark.

You'd killed the walker, but the W thing lingered in your mind as you went back inside the walls. 

 

Deanna came by and collected Rick, Michonne, Maggie, and you. You'd had a hard laugh at what Michonne had done to her official jacket- the woman could not wear clothing the way it was intended to be worn, and you loved her for it. 

Deanna was talking about government and things being official because she said so and what have you, and to be honest, you were barely listening. 

She had wine. At lunch. 

Wine. 

What the hell? 

You were beginning to agree with Rick Dramatic Son of a Bitch Grimes' declaration from your secret meeting that these people 'just got luckier' because you and yours were here now. 

"I see a vibrant community here, with industry, commerce, civilization," she was saying, and you sighed and put down your completely untouched glass. 

The last time you'd had a drink, it had been while you watched the community you'd built burn. 

"And where do I fit into your vision?" you asked. "Where do Daryl and Merle?"

Deanna looked at you and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm not sure what to do with you yet. You have many skills, it seems, and we can use them all. Daryl and Merle I'm beginning to have plans for." 

"Leave us cooling our heels for too long, and we'll find our own jobs," you told her, and her smiled faded a little. 

"Is that a threat, or a promise to integrate yourselves into our community?" she asked, humor in her voice. 

Oh for fuck's sake. Such a politician's response, and you just snorted and rose. 

"Well, when you figure it out? Let me know." 

 

Carol intercepted you on your way back to the house with that serial-killer smile firmly in place.

It was the little head tilts that made it so fucking creepy. 

"You've heard about the party?" she asked. 

You just looked at her. 

"I assumed Deanna told you. Big party tonight. Attendance required. Everyone will be there," she said, leaning in and grabbing your arm with a fake-excited look. 

Jesus, this was just surreal. 

"Ok. Fine. I'll make the boys wash," you muttered. "Carol, this thing you're doing? It seriously creeps me out. Especially since it's working so well." 

One of the soccer mom PTA ladies called Carol's name from the house you were passing and Carol waved back enthusiastically. Then she shot you her real smile, and you blinked at the transformation. 

"I know. It's half the fun," she said, and smirked. "Tonight, then. I'll tell Rick. You know what's great about this place?" she asked, her Alexandria face coming back. "I get to be invisible again." 

 

You bullied Merle into cleaning up. Daryl just sneered at you, flat refusing to go. 

You'd shrugged and said whatever. 

After your own shower, you were left to decided just how much effort you were going to put in. Hair still wet, you looked in the mirror- because you had those now- and sighed. 

You just didn't feel like you without the thin patina of dirt and walker blood you'd come to know and love and hate all at once. 

The cut you'd gotten at Terminus was mostly healed, but you had been right- it was going to scar. 

\- smoke-filled air, walkers growling behind you, and this fat, slow dick laughing at facing off with a woman. His dead friends on the ground didn't matter to him; he was better than them. At least in his own head. You moved forward and he lashed out, a lucky cut that you should have dodged, but you were just a fraction too slow. Oh well, he was a lot too slow, and your knife was in his stomach and ripping sideways, his guts pouring out over your hands in a warm, hot tide as he looked shocked and reached for you-

Well, shit. You didn't have anything to wear. 

 

You settled on clean jeans, a clean black tank you'd found in one of the drawers, and- after a lot of consideration- you snagged one of Daryl's flannels from the clean laundry pile. You tied it up at your waist, making it both a fashion statement and a message to Deanna about where your loyalties lie. 

You kept your damn knife at your hip and your machete through your belt, but you left your bow and quiver just inside the door.

You hadn't met Daryl's eyes as you left the house with Merle, but you'd caught a glimpse of his expression- mostly confused, and something else you couldn't identify. 

Merle had cleaned up well too, and offered you his arm with a mock bow as you'd stepped out the door. You'd laughed and taken it, smiling at the sight of him in clean jeans and a crisp button-up. He also had a knife on his belt, but he'd removed the machete he'd starting strapping to his metal stump after they'd taken his custom sword appendage at Terminus. 

"Mr. Dixon, you clean up good!" you told him cheerfully, and he blushed a little. 

"Ain't nothin', little sister. Most of ours have gone on already," he told you with a nod at the houses. "Some of the ladies have found themselves dresses and skirts and shit for the occasion. They all look right respectable." 

You grinned. "Are you asking me why I'm not wearing a dress?" 

"Hell no, darlin'! More like just tellin' you most of ours are walkin' around encumbered and unarmed. Not even the men folk seem to have any weapons visible. Not like you'n'me, paranoid bastards that we are," he winked at you, and you laughed. 

 

Deanna's house was full of light and sound and oh so many goddamn people. 

Deanna was in full hostess mode; half of her people were drunk- apparently they had a brew master somewhere in the walls, perfect; that's a useful skill in the zombie apocalypse- and every one of yours looked overwhelmed, scared, and uncomfortable. 

Merle and Abraham had gravitated toward each other, planting their backs against the wall together. Abraham had a beer in his hand, but Merle, you were pleased to note, was sticking with water. 

Just like you. 

Carol was the only one who was mingling well, and that's because she had that serial killer fake persona firmly in place. You kept one eye on her and one eye on Carl and Judith, who were constantly surrounded by people trying to hold, kiss, or pinch the baby. Carl was handling it fairly well, and you trusted him to know when he'd reached his limits. 

Like you were close to reaching yours. 

People kept coming up and talking to you, trying to make small talk or ask about life outside. The first time someone had mentioned scavenging a pasta maker, you'd stared at them in complete bafflement. 

\- a run-down shack, barely standing, in the ass end of nowhere; and it was the first place you'd stumbled across in two days. Tired, emaciated, dirty faces, and you and Daryl and Rick and Carl, clearing the place in minutes without a word. Nothing in the cabinets, nothing in the drawers, and Carl, so young and so hardened, holding up two cans of dog food with a look of triumph as he grinned at you-

These people wanted a fucking pasta maker, and yours had been near starving more than once. 

Rick came to your side, hand gentle on your shoulder. "You ok?" he asked softly, smiling a little at the people closest to you. They were close enough to have heard your conversation if the room wasn't filled with voices. As it was, if you stayed low, they wouldn't catch a word. 

You'd found yourself a corner, near the door, and planted yourself in it after the first person had snuck up on you because you couldn't hear them moving over the sounds of laughter and conversation. 

''Saw your eyes bug out when Olivia was talking to you. She mention the pasta maker?" he asked, humor dancing in his eyes. 

You shook your head. "Yeah. These people want a pasta maker. They said that and all I could think about was that shack, before the prison. The others hadn't eaten in a day, and it had been two squirrels amongst them all before then. You and I and Daryl hadn't eaten in more like three. We hadn't found shelter in two, and we found that place and thought we'd struck gold." You snorted, sneering at the room in disgust. 

"Carl found those cans of dog food, and we wouldn't let him eat them. I can't forget the look on his face, Rick. Like he'd uncovered a prime rib or a rack of lamb. Dog food, Cowboy. Grimes was so damn hungry dog food looked delicious, and these guys aren't satisfied with boxed pasta." 

Rick's face was soft and sad as you met his eyes, but you could see how grateful he was that you cared about his boy in his eyes.

"I know," he said gently. "But we're past that now. They don't understand. We do." 

"That's why we need you," Deanna's voice said from your other side, and you whirled to see her standing there with a thin, grey-haired man. He had gentle, sympathetic eyes- real, not the politician's calculation that was all you saw in Deanna's. 

"Rick, YN, this is my husband, Reg," Deanna said with a gesture. You gave him a small smile and a wave as Rick extended his hand. 

"You're a pretty remarkable pair," Reg said, looking between the two of you. 

"How's that?" Rick asked, and you tensed at Reg's answer. 

"I watched the tapes. All of them. The things those people said about you? What you did for them?" He shook his head softly, and you knew he was genuine. 

He was genuinely impressed by you and Rick, and somehow, that made you feel a little better about this whole place. 

"Didn't you build that wall out there?" you asked, remembering something Rick had told you. Something about a mall being built and scavenging the material. 

"I did," he acknowledged. "With help- a lot of it. And it's a damn incredible achievement." 

You liked him even more when he said that, owning his skills without being cocky. 

"But- it's a wall," he said with a look. "Seventeen lives, in this world? I think you two have me beat." 

They talked some more, but you were distracted by Merle's face in the background. He and Abraham had been cornered by a trio of women, and both of them were starting to look a little desperate. 

"Excuse me," you interrupted whatever Reg and Rick had been talking about. "I'm so sorry to interrupt. Reg, it was nice to meet you. Rick, Deanna- I've tried, and so has Merle, but he's looking a little overwhelmed. And frankly, I'm feeling it to. I think I'm going to grab him and head back. Call it a night." 

You offered an apologetic smile that was about as real as Carol's serial-killer one, and Rick ran his hand down your back in reassurance and nodded to you. Reg smiled sympathetically back. 

"Please, by all means. We understand. Deanna says you're married to one of the Dixons; is that him? I just like to know the relationships between people," he said, and since he actually seemed sincere, you answered him. 

"No, Merle is my brother in law. Daryl is my husband. He wasn't feeling up to it tonight. He's- well, he's more skittish than Merle and I are, if you can believe it. I'm so sorry, but I really do need to go. Thank you for your hospitality, Deanna, Reg." You ducked out of the corner, then paused and turned to Deanna. 

"And please, do let us know about those jobs soon," you threw out with a meaningful look. She gave you a barely-polite smile and you returned the same, even as Rick glared at you. 

Whatever. Picking on Deanna was the most fun you were having in this damn place.


	64. A Fundamental Law of Nature

You rescued Merle and retreated rapidly to the door, not responding to the people who hailed you along the way. 

You were both so done. 

As soon as you got back, you scooped up your bow and quiver and told Merle you needed some air. 

"Be careful, little sister. I'll leave the light on for ya," he told you with a wave of his stump in your general direction, already unbuttoning the crisp shirt with his hand. 

You headed out into the night, slipping behind the house to walk the walls for awhile. You knew Rick had already talked to Deanna about setting up regular patrols, to look for weaknesses and to make sure no one climbed the support struts and came in that way- something you'd mentioned to him during your outside pow-wow. 

But you wanted to see for yourself, and besides- you needed the walk. 

Hell, you wanted to be out in the woods. 

You wanted a threat you could identify clearly. 

You wanted to feel some walker blood on your hands, and wasn't that just a disturbing thought to have? 

This place was going to make you weak if you kept sitting around on your ass waiting for Deanna to assign you a job. You couldn't let that happen, because you were pretty sure Rick was going to have to take over some day. 

And you'd need to be ready. 

You were also pretty sure Deanna hadn't given you a job because she didn't like you much. That was ok; the feeling was most indubitably mutual. But still, she made you nervous. You had a feeling she was trying to break you by keeping you waiting. Trying to see what you would do. 

Luckily for her, you didn't have to play her game by her rules. You could make up your own. 

 

You had wound your way around the whole place and you felt better. Not totally settled, but- better. 

You took your usual perch on the porch after whistling through the door to let Merle know you were back. Your people weren't all back from the party- you'd seen them when you'd watched Deanna's house for awhile, and you knew some of them were probably going to break soon- and you hadn't seen Daryl since you'd gotten back, so you hopped up onto your perch on the railing to wait. 

They trickled back, in ones and twos, and most of them didn't even notice you in the dark. You saw their expressions, overheard low conversations, and knew that most of them were just as disgusted and overwhelmed by the sedentary, pampered life of these Alexandrians as you were. 

There was a lot of bitching about the pasta maker, which made you smile a little. 

Finally, you'd seen everyone but Daryl. Carol had slipped into the house, shooting you a stressed look but not stopping to speak. Father Gabriel had walked in, taken a shower, and walked back out without a word. Rick, Michonne, and the kids had headed by, smiling and laughing, with Judith passed out in Carl's arms. 

You sat in the dark and you waited. 

 

He came eventually, and you blinked in surprise when you saw him. 

"You cleaned up," you said, smiling at him as he ducked his head and ran a hand through his hair. 

"Yeah," he grunted. "Ran into Aaron outside the walls, like I told ya. Between the two of you, you guilted me into it. If Merle could go, why couldn't I?" 

He climbed the stairs slowly and leaned one hip on the railing near you. If you'd stretched out your leg just a bit, you could have touched him. 

"I didn't see you there," you told him softly. "You must have gone after I left." 

"Naw. Didn't make it that far. Was pacing in the dark, and Aaron asked me to eat with them. Said he was lookin' for you'n'Merle, too, but I knew you were already there." He gave a tired sigh and rubbed at his eyes. 

"How was it?" you asked, curious. He seemed so run down, and you knew this place was wearing on him, with the uncertainty and the way you knew people looked at him. 

You knew, because most of them had been looking at you the same way. You'd picked up some rough edges on the road, it seemed.

He shrugged. "They're nice. I like 'em. They're outsiders too, with the whole gay thing. People are still assholes about all that at times. Aaron has enough parts for a bike and half. Told me I could have it if I put it together." 

He looked at you and smiled, a true, genuine smile, for the first time in you didn't know how long, and it lit up his entire face. 

Hell, it lit up the night sky around you, and you were smiling back before you knew it, staggered by that grin like you'd been the first time you'd seen it. 

You knew the freedom of a being on the back of his bike, the wind in your hair, the road going by under you so fast you felt like flying. That rushing speed that would have been too much like falling, tipping over the edge from exhilarating into terrifying, if not for the warm solid anchor of him in front of you, your arms wrapped around him and your body pressed close to his back- 

Goddamn, you missed that. 

You missed a lot of things.

You looked away from him before the smiles could fade from both of you. "That's perfect for you," you told him honestly, and he nodded. 

"Offered me a job, too. All three of us, actually." 

Your eyebrows shot up. "Yeah? Deanna know?" 

Daryl snorted. "She knows about me'n'Merle. Don't know if he cleared you with her. Wants us to go out, do his job. Bring people in." 

You considered before you spoke. "It'll get you outside the walls. Won't be here so much, under everyone's eyes. And you're a good judge of character. You and Merle are tough sons of bitches, too. It's perfect," you concluded with another smile his way. "I mean it, it's perfect. You accepted, right?" 

He nodded. "Yeah. Just for me. Told him I'd talk to you and Merle." 

"Merle will say yes," you told him confidently. "Deanna won't let me. She doesn't like me much. Wants to keep me here, contained and under her thumb." 

"Why ya think that?" 

You shrugged, shifting on the railing a little. "She thinks I'm a threat. I saw it, in our interview and every time I run into her. She knows I should have a job running this place, but she also knows I'd take over for her, so she picked Maggie instead. Maggie's a great choice. She has the potential to be an amazing leader." 

"You'd be a better one," Daryl said with a soft smile. He shifted a little too, and suddenly your foot was brushing his leg and you shivered a little. 

You missed him so much. 

"Daryl," you said softly, and he was staring back at you. You felt the tears burning in the back of your throat. 

"I miss you." 

He made a strangled noise, low in his throat, and reached for you, hesitantly. 

You moved toward him without a word, sliding from the railing and into his waiting arms, and his scent was surrounding you as he held you so close, his face on your shoulder. You could feel something cool and damp on your neck and knew he was crying like you were as you pressed your face to his chest and let yourself fall into him; fall into the easy, urgent comfort of home. 

That's what he was to you. 

Home. 

His hand was in your hair, and for the first time in a long, long time, that didn't bother you in the least because it felt so right, as he cradled the back of your head and kissed his way up your neck to your cheek and hovered his lips over yours, asking permission from a hair's breath apart. 

You gave a tiny, gasping sob and closed the achingly small chasm between you. 

His mouth was hard and soft and urgent and gentle all at once; desperate and demanding as yours, but hesitant and disbelieving as well. The taste of him on your lips and the rough softness of his perpetually chapped lips against yours was so familiar and so deeply, deeply missed- 

You felt more than heard the noise he made, and then you were locked against him as he lifted you with an arm around your waist and carried you forward just enough to press you against the door and lean himself against you completely, every inch of his body held to yours; and everything was warmth and light and beautiful, gentle fire, burning you up as his hands framed your face and he broke the kiss with a soft sigh. 

You gave a little hum of protest as he did, and he pressed his forehead to yours, his hands on your cheeks trembling softly like the muscles of his shoulders under your hands. 

"Don't- don't-" he whispered brokenly as you opened your mouth to say something, and you'd never heard him sound like that before. 

"Don't say this is a mistake. Don't tell me to leave ya alone. I cain't. I cain't. I need you, YN. I do. I'll spend the rest of my life tellin' you I'm sorry, but please- please-" 

And you shattered. 

Daryl Dixon didn't beg. 

Not you, not anyone. 

It was a fundamental law of nature; he didn't break, he didn't bend, he didn't beg. 

The sound that ripped from you was half cry, half scream, and all pain. 

He stopped speaking and started to back away, hands falling from you as he dropped his head and turned, believing that cry to be rejection. But you didn't let him. 

You wouldn't let him. 

Goddamn it, you loved him; and he was hurting and you were hurting and the only way to make it stop was for you to at least be hurting together. 

You were tired of this. 

You missed him. You needed him just as badly as he needed you. 

You grabbed a handful of his vest as he tried to walk away from you and you used it to pull yourself to him, and his head jerked back to you as you pressed yourself into his arms again. 

"I love you," you whispered into his neck as you leaned into his shoulder. "I love you, and I swear to God if you let me go right now, I'll be so lost in the dark I can't find my way back. You're home, Daryl Dixon, and I need you so much."

He drew in a shaky breath as you spoke, and then he was scooping you up, holding you to him, and shoving open the door. 

 

Merle slammed your bedroom door open the next morning without knocking. 

"Little sister, you see my idiot baby brother come in last night? Cain't find him anywhere-" he cut off as Daryl pulled the blanket up to his nose and you started giggling uncontrollably from where you lay beside him. 

A smile started on Merle's face even as he turned bright red. 

"Well, butter my ass and call it a biscuit," he drawled, making you laugh even harder. "This is a damn sight for sore eyes. And I ain't talkin' about ya girl, though she's awful pretty lookin' all rumpled and satisfied like that, brother." 

He threw you a wink and Daryl growled at him. 

"You'd best get the hell out, Merle!" he snapped, sitting up to block you from Merle's view. 

You were laughing so long and loud you couldn't breathe, especially when you heard Carol's bewildered voice in the hall. 

"What is going on up- oh!" She cut off as she ducked around the corner behind Merle, and then she was grinning and laughing as Merle turned and high-fived her. "It's about damn time you two got yourselves straightened out. You two must have had fun at that party." 

Her eyes glanced over the room as she asked, taking in what would have been a truly embarrassing display of weapons and clothing strewn around the room. 

Would have been, if you hadn't been so damn happy. 

"Aw, hell," Merle groaned suddenly, and Daryl scowled harder and muttered under his breath as Merle looked at Carol. "I lost the damn bet. Couldn't'a waited one more night, sugar?" 

"Get outta here, ya freaks!" Daryl finally yelled, and they did, grinning at each other. 

You just lay on the bed with Daryl beside you and laughed. 

Home.


	65. Spaghetti, Surprises, and Nothing To Do

Daryl tried to convince you to stay in bed with him, but you knew Carol and Merle wouldn't let you. 

Besides, you wanted to see how her ninja raid on the weapons locker had gone. 

You braced yourself for some good-natured teasing when you got downstairs, but to your intense surprise, the two of you were the ones who got to do so instead. 

You'd moved more quietly than you'd realized as you left the upstairs bathroom after a quick shower. You rounded the corner into the kitchen, braiding your wet hair as you walked, and stopped abruptly to simply stare. You felt the grin spreading on your face, and then Daryl came up behind you. 

"Whatcha doin' standin' in the hallway, woman?" he asked, and you shushed him, but it was too late. 

Merle and Carol sprang apart, both of them turning beat red at the sight of the two of you in the doorway. You didn't know what Daryl looked like, but you were practically dancing with happiness. 

"I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!" you crowed. "How long has this been going on?" 

Merle muttered under his breath, clearly hoping the floor would open up and swallow him whole. You recognized the look, you'd worn it once or twice yourself. 

"That's absolutely none of your business," Carol shot back at you, but she was smiling too, a silly little thing you didn't think you'd ever seen from her before. "Though since you won me a romantic dinner tonight that I don't have to cook, I suppose I should be thanking the two of you," she added with a wink. 

"Well, well, Merle," you teased. "I didn't know you could cook. Or be romantic." 

He scowled at you for a moment, but then he just gave in, and soon the three of you were laughing together. You glanced at Daryl. 

"Come on, Dixon. This is a good thing. Be happy!" you scolded him gently, and a smile slowly crossed his face as he looked at you. 

"I'm happy, woman. Just tryin' to figure out who I should threaten against hurtin' the other," he said finally. 

 

Rick came moments later to steal all of you away for another super-secret meeting. Carol produced a bag full of guns, reporting that she'd been successful and offering everyone their pick. 

"Look, I been thinkin'," Daryl said, and you raised an eyebrow at him. "Do we really need these? I mean, things go bad, yeah, sure. We do what we gotta do, but it's like you said. We don't need these for that." 

"Hell no we don't. Cowboy here can just chew anybody up and spit 'em back out," you teased. 

Rick made a face at you and Carol just looked confused. Daryl snorted gently, brushing his hand down your arm. 

He'd been finding every excuse for contact since the night before, and you didn't mind. It was like once you'd shown him how it could be, the casual physical affection he'd shied from for so long, he craved it now. 

Rick took a gun, but you and Daryl didn't. 

"You wanted me to try, right?" Daryl said to Carol softly. "I'm good." 

You'd just shrugged. "Deanna hates me. She's going to keep me under a microscope. I'll pass. I'm better with the knife and the bow anyway." 

Super-secret meeting adjourned. 

 

That night you didn't sit on the railing and keep watch, and Daryl didn't either. As far as you knew, no one did. 

And nothing happened. 

At least not out there. 

Inside, your little house was filled with laughter and chatter as you, Daryl, Carol, and Merle traded insults and banter. Merle was cooking something- you were pretty sure it was spaghetti, damn the pasta maker- while Carol sat on the counter with a glass of wine and offered tips and advice until he growled at her. You leaned on the breakfast bar and Daryl had propped himself in the doorway, the two of you offering insults and catcalls as the two of them acted all couple-y and cute. 

Finally, Merle had handed the two of you a large bowl of noodles and sauce with two forks stuck in it, two bottles of water, and a couple of pieces of someone's homemade bread, and told you to beat it, all while Carol giggled on the counter. 

You'd obeyed, absurdly happy for them, and absurdly happy for the two of you as well, as you'd taken your dinner up to your room and shut the door behind you. The two of you had eaten cuddled close together on the bed, sharing the bowl like you'd shared more than one can of beans, and you'd talked and laughed and basked in the comfortable silence as you did. 

Your head was on his shoulder, the empty bowl was on the floor, and your eyes were drifting closed in the faint moonlight from the open window when he spoke. 

"I missed ya so much, woman," he said softly, his head tipped back against the wall behind you. He picked at the blanket under you nervously as you opened your eyes and sighed. 

"I missed you too," you whispered, eyes welling up as you thought about it. Almost four weeks. Almost four weeks of having none of this, of anger and sadness and feeling utterly, completely alone. 

"We should probably talk about a few things," he offered after a pause. 

"Like what?" You sat up to lean on the wall so you could look at him. 

"Like... I don't know. Stuff." 

"Thangs, too?" you asked with a grin. 

He snorted and shook his head. "Shut up, Rick," he fired back, and you laughed. 

"I mean it. What I said? It was messed up. I don't expect it to just go away. A'ight?" he said seriously, looking you in the eyes. 

You leaned forward, grabbing his hand to stop him from picking at the healing cigarette burn on the back of his other hand. 

"Daryl. I know. And I appreciate it, so much. It won't go away. But that doesn't mean we have to let it linger between us, either. You're forgiven. Promise." 

You touched your lips to his cheek as he looked down. He squeezed your hand and then pulled his hand from yours, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He shifted, pulling you to him as he stretched out along the bed, and you let out a long sigh as you lay beside him, head on his chest. 

He reached up to play with the end of your braided hair, and you slid your hand under his vest and gripped his shirt against his side. 

"Remember that night at the CDC?" you asked softly. 

"Ya think I could forget?" 

"Maybe. You were drunk," you said with a shrug. 

He chuckled. "No, I wasn't. Not really. A little tipsy, but that was all. Remember everything. Shane. You chargin' outta that bathroom and runnin' right into me. Shoulda killed that fucker right then. Thought about it." 

"You did not," you accused, running your thumb over his side where you gripped his shirt. 

"Did too. Saw it in your eyes. But you didn't say nothin', and we weren't like this. Not yet. Still too new for me to be goin' off all protective like that."

"Why'd you let me sleep in there with you?" you asked quietly. His hand dropped from your hair to wrap around and pull you closer, as he propped his other arm under his head. 

"'Cause I already didn't know how to be without ya. 'Cause you used my first name for the first time. 'Cause you smelled nice. 'Cause I liked the feel of you in my arms when I caught ya. 'Cause I wanted you there." 

You were smiling as he spoke. "We can't lose that. Not again," you said. "We can't lose this. We're too important- us, like this. When you wrapped your arm around me that night? It was the first night I'd gone in years- years, Dixon- without a nightmare. Felt like home. It's felt like home at your side since you laughed at me in that truck, for calling you an asshole." 

"You've been home since I laid eyes on ya, woman," he agreed quietly, and his other hand came down to trace your face gently. "Ain't gonna lose this again. Promise." 

 

A few more days passed, and nothing happened. 

Daryl fixed his bike. Carol and Merle danced around each other and the start of this new thing they had going on. Father Gabriel drifted in and out of the house, never staying long. Rick and Michonne settled into being the police force, learned names and faces of the people. Carol continued to be Soccer Mom Susie outside the walls of your house. 

Daryl and Merle got ready for their first trip with Aaron. 

You'd spent a lot of time over at Aaron and Eric's place with the Dixon brothers, and the five of you had become hesitant friends. You liked them both, immensely, and you'd been disappointed but not surprised when Deanna had refused to give you a job as recruiter with Aaron. 

She didn't give you any other assignment, but she was adamant about you not going with them. 

Whatever. 

You got to know the neighbors, too. You volunteered for different things that people needed, and you might have adopted a much less disturbing version of Carol's undercover persona. You didn't contradict the interview you knew had been recorded, but you also downplayed your kill sheet, your knife skill, and your leadership role. 

You kept an eye on Judith and on Carl, enjoying watching the Grimes clan settle in. 

You walked the walls, you walked with Rick or Michonne on patrol, and you set up targets for archery. 

Tara joined you, practicing with her bow, and then some of the Alexandrians watched. They listened as you gave Tara tips and oohed and awed as you took yourself through various maneuvers and targets. You'd have some students before too long, you knew, and you wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

You practiced your knife work in secret, and you took a few trips outside the wall on your own, getting your hands dirty a time or two. 

You waited. 

 

Glenn, Tara, Noah, and Eugene were going on a run for something the power grid needed. Eugene knew what it was, so despite his lack of anything resembling defensive ability, he was going with them. To your distress, Mr. Punchable and Douchebag were going to.   
That was a mistake, and you knew it. 

Daryl and Merle had left that morning, Daryl with a lingering kiss and Merle with a cheerful wave. Aaron had given you a hug and a solemn promise to bring them back soon, and you'd hauled the gate closed after them with a sigh. 

God, you were bored. 

You knew they could handle themselves out there, but you lingered at the gate as the van pulled out, bad dance music blasting to draw the walkers away from Alexandria. 

You caught sight of Deanna and Reg, standing with Maggie, and you waved to them. Maggie and Reg waved back, and Deanna just gave you a tight-lipped look and turned away. 

Fine then. 

You were tired of waiting. 

It was so on. Operation Make Your Own Job was in effect.


	66. Sit Somewhere Visible and They Will Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> major character death

Abraham was on the construction crew going out to scavenge from the mall that the wall had come from. There were ideas of an expansion of Alexandria being tossed about- you'd heard them- and the crews were collecting the rest of the material from the site to bring it closer to the safe zone. 

With everyone going in and out that day, you'd decided to hang out by the gate, keep an eye on your people. Deanna and Maggie were in and out of your sight all morning, Deanna's eyes always seeming to be watching when one of your people came to check in with you. 

And they came. 

Big Red clapped you on the shoulder and showed you on a map where they were going, adding the time they were supposed to be back before hopping into the bed of a pickup with a bunch of the Alexandrians- many of whom you were able to yell goodbyes to by name and who yelled goodbye back to you- and heading out with a salute. 

Rick swung by later in the day and talked to you for a long time, and you saw Deanna watching from the distance. Rick was worried about the family in town, Jessie and her boys. Ron was Carl's age and the two of them were trying to form a tentative friendship. Rick was pretty certain their dad- the town doctor, of course- was abusing them. 

"Rick, look, if that's the case, you've got to take it to Deanna. We're not in charge here, and we're not integrated enough into this community to handle it ourselves," you'd advised seriously. You were sitting on a blanket on the hood of one of your cars, near the gate, with maps and papers in a neat pile beside you while Rick paced. 

You'd been working out places for supply drops and exit routes while you kept an eye out. You might not have an Alexandrian job, but you had one in your own group, damn it. Plus, this was a good place to track the habits of the gate guards- shitty- and the Alexandrians in general- also shitty. 

"Yeah, I know. Don't have enough information yet, though," Rick agreed, finally ceasing to pace to lean against the vehicle beside you with a sigh. 

You rested your chin on his shoulder and stared at Deanna's figure, where she stood sipping lemonade and watching the two of you. You didn't think Rick noticed. 

"I gotta get back to it," Rick said after a minute. "You ok out here?" 

"I'm good, Cowboy," you told him with a fond smile, gesturing to your project. "Doesn't matter if I don't have a job. Leaves me clear to watch our backs." 

He snorted. "You're damn good at that. Ok. Just don't get into any trouble, Troublemaker." 

"You either. And for God's sake, Rick, don't mention any of this to Carol. Or the Dixon boys." You knew how well it would go over with them.

He nodded and moved on. 

Then Carl and Judith came to hang out and watch the wall with you, and she watched that as well. Rosita and Sasha drifted over to you and spoke for a few minutes before they headed up into the clock tower to keep watch. Michonne brought you lunch and the two of you spent half an hour laughing over nothing, Maggie joining you while Deanna scowled in the distance. Carol checked in under the guise of asking what you wanted for dinner and if you had any laundry that needed to be done, and you marked some places for supply stashes inside the walls based on her information. 

The day wore on; Deanna watched; you planned; and nothing happened. 

Until it did. 

 

Abraham's group were the first ones back. Abraham was out of the truck the moment it stopped, and striding toward you. You slipped off the hood of the car and met him halfway, eyes already noting the blood and the shocked looks on so many of the Alexandrian's faces. 

"What happened, Red?" you asked. 

"A mother dick of a situation," he snapped. "Biters came out of nowhere. Sizable herd- not too many to handle, though, especially with the number of guns on hand. But these guys had their thumbs up one massive collective ass, and got their lookout hurt due to their severe lack of aim. Then the head asshole in charge was going to leave her to become walker chow. I was of the opinion that it was not an optimal idea." 

"I take it you performed a rescue?" you said wryly as Francine- one of the nice ones- came up behind him. 

"Yes, he did," she said. "Then I punched Tobin in the face and Abraham here led us through finishing our jobs." 

"Are you hurt?" you asked her as you watched Tobin jump from the cab of the truck and go straight to where Deanna, Reg, and Maggie had come outside. Maggie gave you a look and you jerked your head at Abraham and then at Tobin, and she nodded before turning her attentive gaze to Deanna and Tobin's conversation. 

"Just twisted my ankle a bit," Francine answered. "I'm going to go see the doctor. Listen, YN- Tobin's a good man. He just got scared. That's why we need you guys. We want to be better. I'd like to learn the bow, and there are several others as well. Would you teach us? And maybe your people could give us some lessons on knives and other weapons like that. Abraham took out most of them with a hatchet today." 

You shot Abraham an amused glance. "Yeah, I'll bet you did, Red. Got something in your hair. If you're done for the day, go shower." 

He grinned at you and you turned back to Francine. "I don't have a problem with that, but you'll need to check with Deanna and Rick. Deanna's in charge of this place and I don't want to do anything without her say, and Rick's the constable. If there's going to be weapons being taught, he should know before hand. Go get your leg checked out," you added with a pat on her shoulder, and Abraham offered her his arm as they hobbled off. 

He looked over his shoulder and gave you a hard nod of approval as they went. 

 

When Tobin left Deanna's a bit later, he came to you. 

"He saved her life. I couldn't have done that. I told Deanna to make Abraham head of the construction crew," he told you, looking down at the ground. "It's the right call. She agreed." 

You looked from him over to Deanna's door, where she stood leaning in the doorway and watching him talk to you. 

"I'm glad your people are here," Tobin said softly, and walked off. 

 

Carol was the next to arrive, her cheerful mask slipping as anger popped in her eyes. 

"What's wrong?" you asked instantly, setting aside the list of supplies you were making to give to Glenn for their next run and coming to your feet. 

"I think he's hitting them," she said, and her voice was death. 

"I know," you told her, and her eyes flashed to yours. "Carol, I need you to stay calm. I know you want to charge in there and fuck shit up, and believe me, so do I. There are kids in that house, and-" you cut off and pressed your lips together, hard. "But we can't. Look, Rick already suspects. He's going to talk to Deanna about it. If she doesn't do anything, then we're going to have to watch and wait until we have proof. We won't let him keep doing it, but we can't do anything direct. Not yet." 

She was shaking her head, arms crossed, as she stared beyond you. "Deanna won't do anything. He's the doctor. She needs him. We're going to have to handle it." 

"Then we will. We will," you repeated, grabbing her shoulders and making her look you in the eyes. "But not yet. Wait, Carol. Please?" 

She nodded once, sharply, in agreement, and then that serial-killer smile was back on her face and she was gone. 

Fucking A. 

 

It was Glenn's group next, his van coming through the gate faster than it should have. You were running, shoving your hastily collected papers into your back pocket, as Glenn threw himself out of the driver seat, screaming. 

"Help! I need help!" 

You were at his side, and he grabbed your arm frantically. 

"What happened?" you asked, voice calm. 

"It's Tara," he snapped, throwing open the van's doors, and Eugene was helping him take Tara out of the van as other running footsteps pounded the pavement. Her head was wrapped in a bloody bandage, and she was pale and out cold.

Nicholas, Mr. Punchable, was in a crumpled heap in the back, and- 

"Where's Noah?" you snapped as you moved to help Eugene and Glenn with Tara, supporting her head as you started for the infirmary. "Where's Douchebag?" 

Glenn's jaw worked, and you realized how covered in blood the three of them- including the unconscious Tara- were. 

"Gone," Glenn said finally, and you looked at him and knew it had been horrible. 

The running footsteps reached you, and Rick was pulling you back as the Alexandrians appeared with a stretcher. Tara was whisked away, and Glenn stood where he was while Eugene went with her. 

"Glenn?" you said, taking a step toward him. "What happened?" 

You touched his shoulder gently and he finally met your eyes. 

"Jesus, Speed Racer," you breathed at the look in them, and you pulled him into a hug. His blood-soaked hands gripped the back of your shirt hard as you held him tight, and then Maggie's worried face appeared at your shoulder. 

You released Glenn and he immediately latched on to Maggie, and you saw that Deanna was there and looking at you with those politician's eyes. 

And then Glenn told you what happened, and you felt yourself go cold. 

 

Your little family- those still in the walls and out of the infirmary- gathered in your house that night. 

No one spoke much as food was mechanically eaten, but no one seemed to want to leave. You cast worried glances at Maggie and Glenn in particular- Tara had saved Glenn, brought him and Maggie back together before Terminus, and Noah's death had been... 

Traumatic didn't begin to cover it. Not even close. 

The only one missing was Father Gabriel, and Maggie drew you aside to talk to you about him that evening as well. 

"He told her we were evil. That we would take over this place and destroy everything she'd worked for. Aiden was her son. I'm afraid she's going to think Gabriel's right," she'd told you in a low voice. "I don't want to dump this on the others. Everyone doesn't need to be worried about it, but I saw you today. Handling everyone's problems just like when you were on the Council." 

You snorted and shook your head. 

"Deanna doesn't trust me, for this very reason," you told Maggie with a grim look. 

"You're right," she agreed. "She barely trusts me, because she thinks I've got a lot to learn about being a leader, a politician. She doesn't know I've been watching the best for awhile now. She wanted to tie us to her community, with me and Rick working for them. She didn't bet on the way you work. Between you and Rick, you're already running this place. She sees it. She knows it. She's trying to figure out how she can get something out of it." 

"Yeah," you'd agreed, and patted Maggie on the arm. "Go take care of Glenn. I'll figure it out. Everyone's more than welcome to stay here tonight who wants to. Pass that on."


	67. Just Another Day in the Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> mentions of abuse

When things went to shit, they really went to shit. 

You'd overheard Rick and Carol's conversation on your porch the night before, and you'd managed to talk them down. It was a near thing with Rick, and you were pretty certain it was only your steady gaze from the porch rail you'd perched on, bow in hand, that had kept him from tearing Pete the Asshole a new one on his way home that night. 

You hadn't gotten anything that remotely resembled sleep, staying on the rail and watching Jessie and Pete's house as well as the houses of your own. 

 

And so it went on. 

You checked in on Tara in the infirmary, glad to hear she was stable, sad to hear she hadn't woken up yet. 

You went back to your perch on the hood of the car, this time bringing not only your papers, but a whetstone and supplies for making more arrows. You preferred the manufactured bolts you had right now, but one good fight you had to run from and you'd have an empty quiver again. 

Rosita and Michonne were the first to check in, stopping by your perch on their way outside the gates to let you know they were looking for Sasha. No one had seen her since she'd left your house the night before, and Rosita thought she knew where she might be. You'd nodded, and given Michonne a long, worried look. 

She wasn't wearing her sword, and you found that distressing. Neither of them had been outside the gates since you'd arrived in Alexandria, and you made a note to make sure you got your people out there on a rotating not-scheduled schedule, so everyone would get some practice and stay sharp. 

 

You were fletching when Deanna stalked from her townhouse, dressed in all black. She glared at you and made a beeline for where you knew there was a fresh grave behind the church. 

You felt bad for the woman. Losing people was difficult, to say the least, and losing people bloody, publicly, and in a manner than highlighted their- and by extension your own- incompetence? Nightmare. 

Then add in the fact that it was her son, and things were very very high on the not-good scale. 

You gave a sharp whistle. Rick looked up from where he was walking the wall and made his way to your side. 

"Something wrong?" he asked in a low voice. 

"Deanna. Heading to the grave. Might want to go talk to her," you told him, with a jerk of your head in her direction. 

"She ok?" 

You laughed grimly. "Would you be?" 

He dropped his head with a nod, jaw working as he rested his hands on his gun belt. "Fair enough. Are you ok?" 

You grunted as you put the arrow aside and looked up at him. "Sure. I'm ok. I have to be, don't I? Look, don't push her too hard, but bring up Jessie and Pete. She's in charge; give her a problem to handle to distract her from the grief. Did Francine ask you about learning archery and knife skills?" 

"Yeah, she did. I told her to ask Deanna." 

"Good," you said with a sharp nod. "Ask her about that, too, but keep that casual. It's not immediately imperative, so ask her about it first. When she says no to that, you have leverage with Pete. Suggest separating them, and Rick, for fuck's sake- don't mention killing him." 

He was giving you a long look. "Why don't you do it? You know what you're doin' with her better than I do." 

"That's why," you retorted. "Because she knows that I know what I'm doing with her. She hates me, Rick, you can see it in her eyes. You'll get further than I ever will." 

"Fair enough," he said, and patted you on the shoulder as he walked off. 

"Let me know how it goes," you called, and he turned to give you a slight, knowing smile over his shoulder. 

 

Then it was Carl, though he was trying to sneak over the wall and didn't know you saw him. You sighed and put aside your knife and the stick you'd been sharpening to a point. 

You rose on the hood of the car and whistled again, a harsher trill. Carl jumped guiltily, looking around until he saw you with your hands on your hips. You lifted one hand and beckoned him over. 

He dropped his head for a minute in a gesture that made you grin because it looked so much like his dad's, then came over at a slow jog. You dropped off the hood of the car and gave him a look. 

"Whatcha doin', Grimes?" 

He wouldn't meet your eyes. "Nothing." 

You snorted and flicked the brim of his hat. "That's convincing. Seriously, I don't care if you go out there. You can take care of yourself better than most of the sheep here. Just use the damn gate and let someone know you're going, ok? We need to keep track of our people. Sasha's already AWOL out there and we just lost Noah. Don't make me worry about you, kid." 

He glanced at you and then away. "You won't tell me not to go?" 

"Have you met me?" you asked with a raised eyebrow. "Hell, I'm working on a system to get all our people out there on a regular basis for practice without it looking like we're getting all our people out there on a regular basis for practice. I just want to make sure we know if we need to go looking for you. Why are trying to sneak out instead of using the nice shiny gate?" 

He sighed. "Enid's out there. She sneaks out all the time, and no one knows. I'm trying to find her and bring her back without getting her in trouble." 

You gave him a considering look. "Can you find out how she gets in and out and let me know?" 

He grinned. "Escape routes?" 

"Escape routes," you agreed. 

 

Mr. Punchable came slinking out of the infirmary next. He looked at you and sneered as you gave him a little wave. 

He was cleaning out the back of the van- washing out the blood- when Glenn came striding up as well. 

Shit. 

You put down the knife you'd been sharpening and scooted to the edge of the car's hood to watch and listen. 

Glenn glanced at you and gave you a nod, but his attention was on Mr. Punchable. 

"Nicholas, don't talk, just listen," he snapped, and Nicholas jumped. He hadn't even known Glenn was behind him. 

"Those four people you lost on that run? That's on you. And Noah? That's on you too." 

Well, damn, Speed Racer, don't pull your punches any. 

"Those five lives- you have to carry that. People like you are supposed to be dead, but these walls went up just in time, so you're not." Glenn's voice was steel, and you felt his pain. 

The way Noah had died? Being eaten right in front of Glenn, pressed up against the glass, and Glenn couldn't do anything about it, while Mr. Punchable ran away? 

Well, you'd have killed him. Slowly, painfully, and bloodily. 

Hell, you might still.

"You don't go outside those walls anymore. Not by yourself. Not with anyone else. And that's how you're going to survive," Glenn said with a slight tilt of his head. 

You were off the car and inching closer now, behind Mr. Punchable's back. 

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Mr. Punchable snarled, getting up in Glenn's face. 

Glenn didn't back down. "I'm someone who knows who you are. I know what you did. And it's not gonna happen again." 

Fuck, Glenn. He was about as scary as Cowboy right now. You were impressed, and you grinned a little as you leaned against the door of the van behind Mr. Punchable. 

"I've been protecting this place, helping provide for it. You just got here," Nicholas snarled. 

Glenn's expression didn't change. "Don't forget what I said." 

"Are you threatening me?" Mr. Punchable asked, and you and Glenn made the same noise at the same time. Mr. Punchable whirled around, eyes wide as he saw you. 

"That's not a threat, asshole," you told him. "He's saving you." 

 

But it was Rick who really sent things over the edge. 

You were bent over a map, with a hand-drawn sketch of Alexandria at your elbow, when you heard pounding feet. 

You looked up, and it was Francine, eyes wide, running on her twisted ankle. 

"What the hell, Francine?" you called as she sprinted full out toward you. "You can't run on that-" 

"Come. Now. It's Rick," she gasped out over you, and you scooped up your papers and bolted behind her. 

 

He was on top of Pete, in the middle of the street, and both of them were bloody. 

Son of a bitch. 

"Shit, shit, shit," you were muttering as you heard Reg scream for Deanna and saw the crowd gathering. 

You shoved papers into your back pocket- couldn't let Deanna or anyone outside your group see your plans; that'd be worse for your people than Rick's slugfest- and hurled yourself forward into the fight just as Pete rolled him and Rick. 

Pete's hands were around Rick's neck and you were airborne, slamming into Pete in a Dixon brothers tackle and throwing him to the ground. 

You scrambled to your feet as people shouted around you, and put one foot on Pete's chest and turned to Rick. 

"Cowboy, stop!" you ordered. Rick was climbing to his feet when his eyes went wide. 

Pete grabbed your foot and heaved, and you were thrown off balance, hitting the ground hard. You stayed down, gasping as the air left your lungs, and you saw stars. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

"Dad, get off!" you heard Carl yell from way too close, and you pulled yourself up just in time to see Rick- now back on top and hands around Pete's throat- shove Carl back and knock him to the ground.

Not good. Very, very, very not good. 

"Rick! Get the hell off, you idiot!" you snapped at him, and he looked up at you, eyes blank and wild and primal. 

You stared him down as you heard Deanna's voice in the background. You saw the Rick come back into his eyes, and you gave him a nod. 

"Touch them again, and I'll kill you," Rick snarled. 

"Damn it, Rick! I said stop!" Deanna snapped, and you gave her a 'shut the fuck up' look as Rick sneered.

You lost him. You'd almost had him calmed down, almost had it in hand, but then she'd had to go and give him an order. 

Rick didn't do well with outsider's orders. 

"Or what?" he said, coming to his knees and whipping out a gun. It was cocked and pointed at Tobin, one of the Alexandrians, and you were moving to put yourself in Rick's line of fire. 

"YN, no!" Carol shouted, and Glenn made a motion towards you, but you shot up a hand to shut them all up. 

"Cowboy," you said softly, voice a warning, but your friend was not all there right now and you saw it in his eyes. You stayed put, arm up to hold everyone else back. 

"You gonna kick me out?" Rick asked Deanna, ignoring you, and you shot her a 'be very fucking careful' look as Rick's gun swung toward her. 

"Put that gun down, Rick," she said, tone firm. 

This lady did not take a hint as well as she thought she did. 

"You still don't get it," Rick said with a shake of his head and a crazed laugh, but he lowered the gun and you felt a little relief. 

"None of you do!" he yelled. "We know what needs to be done and we do it. We're the ones who live! You- you just sit, and plan, and hesitate. You pretend like you know, when you don't!" 

He was gesturing with the gun and it wasn't Rick. Something about it, something about his movements and his expressions and the pattern of his voice as he spoke- 

Well, shit. He was full-Shane crazy right now. 

As in, he was acting like Shane, imitating his friends' mannerisms when Shane was pissed about something. You wondered if he even knew he did it. 

Goddamn, Lori had worked a number on these two men. 

You were gonna have to take him down somehow, and you were so not a fan of that thought. But hey, better you than someone else. 

You started shifting closer a little at a time, trying to get a better position without him knowing, as the crowd stared in silence. You heard the silenced shots coming from the tower and you hoped that was under control, because your hands were fucking full right now, thanks. 

"You wish things weren't what they are. Well, you want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is done! Things don't get better because you- you want them to," he sneered, and you got just a touch closer. 

"Starting right now, we have to live in the real world. We have to control who lives here." 

Yeah, talking yourself out of a home there, Rick.

"That's never been more clear to me than it is right now," Deanna snapped, and you dropped some of Merle's inventive profanity mentally as Rick gave her the full head tilt look. 

"Me? Me? You- you mean me?" he said with a laugh. "Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed. It's already gotten people killed! And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. If you don't fight, you die. I'm not gonna stand by-" 

Aaaaaand that's enough. 

You took one step closer and clocked him across the back of the head. 

"Shut up, Rick," you snapped as he fell, and everyone stared at you.


	68. You've Already Taken Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> references to past abuse

Deanna was pissed, and honestly, you didn't even blame her for this one. You'd have been pissed too. 

Rick went to the guy's house, kissed his wife, got into a goddamn fight with the guy, and chucked him through the window. All of this after basically telling Deanna he would kill him. 

After, you'd just like to point out, you had specifically told him not to mention that bit. 

And that didn't even mention the fuckin' full-Shane Crazytown speech. 

What the fuck were you going to do now? 

 

Jessie had sobbed out the story to you and Deanna in the street, after Glenn and Michonne had taken Rick somewhere to sleep it off. Your people had given you looks of gratitude, but Deanna? 

Not so much. 

You'd gotten your people to take Rick, and you had Tobin and Francine taking care of the unconscious-as-well Pete. Deanna had not been happy when you'd started directing traffic after knocking Rick out, but hey- someone had to. 

And you so didn't want it to be her.

Glenn and Michonne had done as you said immediately, and then you'd singled out Tobin and Francine, both of whom had been friendly toward you. When they responded to your directions as well, the others gathered around had sort of fallen in line when as you'd fired off instructions. 

Your people had checked in from afar while Jessie had told you the story- Carl signaling you that he was ok as you'd stared him down, gesturing to Enid to tell you he'd found her; Rosita giving you a thumbs up and pointing toward the tower, so you knew Sasha was back inside the walls at least; Michonne appearing at the end of the road and jerking her head to show you where Rick was stashed. You'd given them all nods and small signals that you got the message, and you knew Deanna saw, but she didn't say anything. 

You'd calmed Jessie down, sent her and her boys with Carol- whose serial-killer persona might have creeped you out, but seemed to be working fine on everyone else- to your house to rest and get something to eat, and then you flagged down the returning Francine and asked her to put someone to work fixing the front window of Jessie's house. 

 

Now you sat beside Rick with Michonne, waiting for his crazy ass to wake the hell up while you checked out the tended cuts on his face. 

He'd been out for the entire night, and while you'd come and gone as you handled other necessary shit, Michonne had stayed at his side, arms crossed in the corner, constable's uniform jacket slung over the back of her chair. 

The two of you had talked some during the night. You'd been afraid she'd be pissed at you for how you handled things, but she'd just given you a grim smile. 

"I'd have done it if you hadn't," she'd told you, and you'd snorted. 

Idiot woke up and chuckled as he grabbed his head. Dude probably had a raging fucking headache. 

"What's so funny?" Michonne asked him with a glance at you, and his eyes shot toward the two of you. Michonne was still set up in her chair, and you were leaning against the wall beside her. 

"You there the whole time?" 

"All night," she grunted in response. "What's so funny?" 

"It's- it's like the train car," Rick said as he sat up painfully. Neither of you moved to help him, though you wanted to. 

You might have thought he was a crazy bastard idiot, but you loved him, after all. 

"After the whole thing, and I'm still there," he said with a gesture. 

Yeah, ok, whatever Cowboy. You didn't get it.

"Deanna wanted you in here, calm things down," you spoke up, and he gave you a long look. "So did I, to be honest. Rosita patched you up while I was trying to clean up your mess out there. Carl came by here; Michonne sent him home. Rick, what the ever-lovin' fuck?"

He made a face and sighed, but said nothing, and you groaned. "You're an idiot, Rick Grimes. I told you how to handle this. I did," you snapped as his jaw clenched and he looked away. 

"You could have told me what was happening," Michonne added. "We put Pete in another house after he got out of the infirmary." 

"It moved fast," Rick said softly, and there was guilt in his tone. "Then Noah." 

You snorted as Michonne glared. 

"I couldn't tell you about the gun," Rick said softly.

"No, you didn't tell me about it," she shot back. "There's a difference."

"Ok, guys, before this turns into the domestic dispute you so clearly need to have," you interrupted, pushing off from the wall, "there's some business we need to discuss. Rick, the gun. I have it. Don't argue, Michonne," you shot out as she gave you a look. 

"Taking it from the armory was stupid. We have the bows and the knives. We didn't need a secret gun in play. I scooped it up in the chaos and Deanna hasn't asked about it yet. I'm going to give it back to Olivia when everything calms down, but if Deanna's smart, she's going to ask for a count of everything there." You held Rick's gaze and hoped you'd conveyed everything you needed to about the status of the other guns Carol had gotten out. 

You'd already had a little chat with her and gotten her to slip them back in, and you saw Rick's nod. You'd known they were too damn risky, especially since you'd stashed some outside the gates already. 

"Deanna's planning to have a meeting tonight," you added through gritted teeth. "For anyone who wants to come. Probably to try to kick you out, asshole." 

Rick sighed. "Not surprised." 

"Yeah, me neither. I will be surprised if she doesn't try to kick all of us out. Maggie's with Deanna, trying to figure out her plan, but that woman is pissed, Rick. So you're going to listen to me this time and do what I say." You held Rick's gaze until he finally nodded, and you nodded back. 

"At the meeting, you say you were concerned about someone being abused and no one doing anything about it. You throw me out as a reason. I mean, it's close enough. You're tight with me; you got a little crazy with worry over someone else going through something like that. Especially the kids. Now, Deanna knows you laid one on Jessie, so you're gonna have to own up to your little crush as well and apologize for inappropriate actions toward a married woman. You'll say the gun was to give to Jessie to protect her. Say you'll do whatever they want you to do. And let me do the rest." 

Michonne was looking at you like you were insane. "How much is going on here that I don't know about? How much of what you're saying is the truth?" 

You gave her a long look. "More than sixty percent, less than eighty. Do you really want to know more? Or are the two of you going to trust me to handle this and tell them the story they want to hear?" 

"Why?" Michonne asked. 

"Because these people are children. Children like stories," you told her coldly, stealing a line from your whispered argument over the guns with Carol. "Now, we can do our best to talk this out with them, but if it comes to it, I need to know you'll back my play, Michonne. No matter what. I'll take it by force if I have to," you said grimly, and she stared at you. 

"We can talk to them!" 

"We will," Rick said. 

"And if we can't get through, I have a plan. Back my play, and everyone lives. Got it?" you asked, looking them in the eyes. 

Michonne looked like she wanted to argue, but finally she nodded. 

"Good. Have your argument- maybe talk some shit out- but try to keep it below Dixon level, ok? You've stirred up enough trouble. Then get some more sleep, Cowboy. You look like shit," you told him, and patted his shoulder as you left. 

 

You found Deanna on her porch, Reg letting you in. "Hello, YN. She's out here." 

"What can I do for you now?" Deanna asked coldly. 

"This meeting tonight. You're not kicking Rick out. You're not," you told her bluntly, and she glared at you. 

"What makes you think you have any say in that?" Deanna snapped. 

"Deanna!" Reg said, surprised, and you smiled at him tightly. 

"It's alright, Reg. I wondered how long it would take. See the thing is, Deanna, you let me in. You let us all in. Now that we're here, we aren't leaving. And you can glare and threaten and leave me cooling my heels without a job while you try to decide where I'll be the most harmless all you'd like, but it doesn't matter. We're here, and we're not going away." You held her angry gaze, and she was the one who cracked. 

"Rick held a gun on my people!" she snapped. 

You shrugged. "He didn't pull the trigger." 

"That's a metric? That he didn't pull the trigger?" 

"Yeah. It is. I stopped him. Me, Deanna. As you already figured out, I'm his right hand bitch- but I dropped his ass immediately. Your people saw it, and they respect it. He fucked up; I get it. But we aren't leaving. You brought us in, and we've already taken over. You just don't realize it yet. Take a look outside today, Deanna. See what you see," you told her softly, and you walked out.


	69. Tick Tock, Bitches, Here We Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mention of past abuse

You were back on your perch by the gate, with a clean map and Noah's empty notebook. One that Reg had given him, the morning Noah died. 

You'd sketched out a map of Alexandria as it was now on the first page, and you were marking off locations on your bigger map as you made lists, just like the day before. 

These were different lists, though. 

Before you'd been working on dead drops, exit routes, escape plans. Now you were marking off a place to build a mill, a couple fields you wanted to annex, a shooting range. 

Now you were building a civilization again, like you'd done at the prison. 

This was your place now, damn it.

 

They came by slowly. Just a trickle at first. 

But they came. 

It started with your people. Carl and Judith came by to check on you. Abraham leaned against the car beside you for awhile and stared at the fence in silence. Glenn and Maggie brought you water and food and updated you on Tara, and you'd tasked Maggie with talking to as many people as possible before the meeting. You'd told her to tell as much of your own story as she thought was necessary to explain why Rick would have acted the way he did. Carol came and told you Jessie and her boys were doing about as well as could be expected, and that her return trip to the armory was just in time, since Deanna had put a guard on it now. 

Then Francine and Tobin had come, first one and then the other, to tell you that Jessie's window was boarded up and that Pete had been moved to one of the vacant townhouses. 

Olivia had come by to ask you to add some things to Glenn's list for the next supply run- bandages and whatnot for the infirmary, some specific food item requests, etc. She'd laughed when you'd slyly asked if the pasta maker needed to get written down.

Bruce came by while Abraham was there, asking Abraham if he knew how to replace the window, not just patch it, and thanking you for handling Rick the night before. You'd spoken to him for awhile about why Rick had reacted the way he had; using your past as a reason why Rick reacted so strongly. 

Abraham had watched you as you talked to him, considering you with a raised eyebrow. You'd forgotten he didn't really know all your group's shit, having joined up so late and what with all the non-stop running action you'd been doing since he had. He'd given you a hard nod of respect and patted your arm before he left to do you didn't know what.

Bruce had left looking thoughtful and concerned, instead of scared, and you'd seen him talking to his buddies not long after. 

Some of Carol's soccer mom friends had come to tell you they'd dropped off a casserole at your place, saying they knew you'd housed Jessie and the kids and that Daryl and Merle were out, and how they thought you'd need a little something. They gave you soft, sad glances, and you knew the story was spreading. 

Good. 

Deanna watched, as you'd suggested, and her frown deepened as the sun inched across the sky. 

 

You went to check on Tara a few times. Eugene was with her the whole time, and nearly every time you stuck your head in one of your other people was there. 

You all really needed her to wake up soon, damn it. 

When you walked back to what you were already thinking of as your office, the gate guard had been switched, and Deanna and Reg's son, Spencer, was manning it.   
You hadn't interacted with him much yet. You'd been introduced, briefly, at the party, but that was all. So you were surprised when as soon as you came into view, he waved you over. 

The inner part of the gate was rolled back a little, and you automatically scanned the visible area through the bars when you got to them. 

"Hey, Spencer. What's up?" you asked, leaning your shoulder against the gate and tucking your thumbs through your gun belt. 

"Hey, look. That guy, the preacher? He left like ten minutes ago, and didn't take a gun with him," Spencer said, giving a concerned look out the gate himself. 

Ten minutes. Excellent timing on his part, since you'd only been gone for around fifteen yourself. He was avoiding you, big surprise. 

Creepy fucker. 

"I know he's one of your friends, and I noticed how they all seem to check in with you. You're like master control, I guess," Spencer continued with a shrug and a grin. 

"Something like that," you answered him. "Thanks. There's nothing we can do about it though. Let me know if he hasn't come back before your shift is over, would you?" you asked, catching sight of Rick leaving the unfinished basement under the infirmary where he'd been 'held'. 

You left Spencer with another smile and jogged back the way you'd come, toward Rick. Tobin was on armory guard duty, and he watched Rick closely as he passed. When Tobin saw you heading his way, he waved and smiled in your direction, and you waved back as you intercepted Rick. 

"You good, Cowboy?" you asked your friend, checking his face for fresh bleeding from any of the cuts. 

"Yeah, I'm good," he answered, looking around warily. "How's things?" 

You shrugged. "Fair to middling, I'd say. Deanna wants you gone, and if she can figure out how to send me with you, she would in a heartbeat. I'd say she's regretting letting any of us in here. Hey, Francine! Get off that leg, would you?" you called up the road as you saw her heading toward Tobin. She laughed and waved, and you waved back with a grin. 

Rick was watching you. "Yeah, Deanna messed up not just giving you a job. You're gonna topple her little kingdom just for spite, aren't you?" 

You shrugged. "Not just for spite. For their own good. I agree with you, Rick, these people need to be more careful who they let in here. I only knocked you out because you were pulling a Shane and scaring the shit out of everyone, including me. We good about that, by the way?" 

Rick laughed a little, and pulled you into a quick hug. "Yeah, we're good. I deserved it." 

"Damn right you did," you muttered as you held on to him for a minute. 

He'd scared you more than you wanted to admit. You were starting to wonder how much more crazy he could take and still come back from. 

You were starting to wonder how much more you could handle.

"You want an escort home, or can you make it without causing any drama?" you asked Rick as you pulled back finally. 

His lips quirked upward. "Think I'll make it on my own. Carl? Judith?" 

"Carl had her as of a couple of hours ago. Said he was taking her home for a nap," you told him, and gave him a quick rundown on the rest of your people's movements. 

He snorted and shook his head. "Alright, General. I'll leave you to it. See you tonight." 

 

Yeah, these people were trying to make things worse. 

At least, that's what you decided when a nervous Barbara came to tell you she saw Carol at Pete's new townhouse and then heard something break inside. 

You'd gone looking for Carol immediately, and found her in the pantry with Olivia talking about whether or not she could make cookies for the town meeting that night. 

Serial-killer Susie was freaking you the hell out, and it needed to stop and soon. 

You'd had a chat with her on your way out, and it turned out she'd threatened to kill the guy if he didn't keep working on Tara. She'd told him she could kill him right there, held a knife to his throat, and then walked out. 

Oh, and she'd left him a casserole. 

Cause that made everything better. 

The sun was almost down and it was almost time for the meeting. You were gathering up your things and trying to calm your racing heart, because this was it. You'd win, or you'd lose, and if you lost? 

Then there was going to be blood.


	70. We'll Survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> character death  
> cannon divergence  
> general gross and disgusting shenanigans

"Hey, Cowboy," you greeted Rick just outside his front door, but he had a look.

Uh oh. That's not a good look. That's a very, very bad look. 

"Come on," he growled, and started off in the direction of the gate. 

"Rick? Wrong way," you told him as you fell in step behind him, glancing at him worriedly as you almost-ran you were walking so fast. 

"I know," he said grimly, and then you were there. 

What the fuck? The gate stood partway open, and you cursed, creatively enough to make Merle proud. 

"Walker blood," you said darkly when the two of you reached it, running your fingers over the latch and coming away with them damp and red. 

"Son of a bitch," Rick said softly. "Could use those damn guns now," he added as you both scanned the lengthening shadows. 

"Come on, Cowboy. When have we ever needed guns?" you teased, but your heart wasn't in it. 

There was a walker loose in Alexandria because someone hadn't done their damn job, and you knew who the someone was. 

"Hope Maggie can keep Deanna from ordering you exiled for a while," you told Rick as you met his eyes. "Looks like we're gonna be busy saving their asses." 

"Yeah," he said, his jaw muscle twitching. 

You grabbed the gate and gave it a heave, making sure it was locked, and then the two of you were off. 

 

"Be better to split up," Rick said as the two of you jogged the wall in the direction the tiny trail of blood spatter had lead. 

You just shook your head. "Nope. Don't know what we're getting into. We should stick together. Plus, I'm the tracker, remember?" 

He grunted. 

 

It got dark while you searched. Alexandria was a big fucking place for two people on foot to try to find a walker. 

Too many nooks and crannies and places to hide, damn it. 

The darkness made it worse, and you were grateful that most everyone was at the big group meeting. Those who weren't would be in their homes with the doors closed, so hopefully- hopefully- you could find any of the undead assholes before it was too late. 

You and Rick were a seamless team, like always when the shit hit. You covered him, bow drawn, as the two of you crept between houses methodically. You'd lost the trail awhile back, and without a clear path, you were relying on logic, thoroughness, and a shit ton of luck.

When the dog started barking, Rick whirled, but you didn't, so you saw them first. 

"Rick," you hissed, and dropped the first one with your bow, but then number two came out of bloody fucking nowhere. 

"Don't kill them! Just take their jaws!" Rick snapped, and what? 

"The fuck?" you muttered. 

But hey, if that's what the man wants, that's what the man gets.

Not like you hadn't done it before.

Rick shoved number two into a wall, but then a third came from behind and you were in it, swooping around Rick to grab it by the hair and yank it back and away from him. 

You got a fistful of hair and skin for your trouble, but you'd slowed it down just enough for Rick to grab the jaw of his in his free hand and wrench the thing sideways and clean off with a sickening crunch. 

"Goddamn, Cowboy, that is disgusting!" you called as you kicked yours flat to the ground, then dropped over it. 

You grabbed the back of its head- you refused to think of it as a 'she' though your treacherous brain really, really wanted you to- and forced it to the side while holding its body down with a foot on its back. You sighed as you wrinkled your nose at the snapping, rotting jaw, and slid the tip of your bow between its teeth, working it all the way back. Then you jerked your arm toward you, hard, and the lower jaw snapped loose, dangling from the walker's mouth by rotting flesh and tendon only. You released its head and grabbed the jaw, pulling it off the rest of the way and gagging.

"It's about to get worse," Rick said grimly, and you lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Worse than this?" you asked, gesturing with the jawbone that dangled bits of flesh and goop. 

"Gonna need your knife." 

Oh, goody. This should be interesting. 

 

You both ended up covered in guts again, and you looked at Rick when you were done and sighed. 

"Why is it always us?" you asked plaintively, and he laughed. 

"We're the ones who can handle it," he answered. "Let's go. We have a meeting to get to." 

Yes, you did, and wasn't it going to be entertaining? 

 

 

"Simply put, there is a vast ocean of shit out there that you people don't know shit about. Rick Grimes knows every grain of said shit, and then some." 

You smothered at laugh at Big Red's words, because laughter hardly seemed like the way to go for this particular appearance, considering you and Rick were already covered in guts and hauling- 

Well, you had two heads with no jaws, eyes still moving rapidly back and forth, that you held upside down by what was left of their spines. 

Rick had the walker you'd put an arrow into tossed over his shoulder, and he was the first come out of the darkness like the monster in a horror movie. 

Wasn't that amusing, since your whole damn life had turned into a horror movie these days? 

Sudden silence fell over the crowd when he appeared, followed by shocked cries as he dropped the body with a thud. 

"Well, folks, hope everyone enjoyed the meeting. Sorry we're late, but Rick and I found some party crashers along the way," you drawled as you followed him out of the gloom. 

You really had to do something about your smart ass mouth one of these days. 

Deanna was staring at the two of you like she'd never seen anything quite as horrifying, and you honestly didn't blame her one little bit. You were actually pretty glad that Rick had laid down the law and told Carl to stay home with Judith. You didn't really want him to see you like this. 

Though he'd seen his dad rip a dude's throat out with his teeth, so Grimes could probably handle a little jawless zombie head dramatics. 

"Rick? YN?" Michonne's voice was wary as she took in your appearance- and props. "Something happen?" 

"What the hell are you holding?" Deanna asked over her, and you turned to her and grinned. 

"Don't like my accessories? Yeah, they don't like you either," you said, voice hard, and tossed the heads down in front of the bonfire. They rolled a little, and Rick stopped one with his foot. 

"Someone left the damn gate open. Spencer?" you snapped, and he looked shocked. 

"I- I asked the Father to close it," he said when Deanna whipped around to stare at him. 

"Go," she said harshly, and he took off running. 

Cause, you know, he could do a goddamn thing about it now.

"We didn't bring them in," Rick said, and you let him do his thing. Your role had been strictly for the drama, and you were pretty sure you'd terrorized these people enough to get their attention. He had the Rick Grimes speech voice you knew did wonders with people, and with one hand resting over his empty holster, he looked the part of the respectable sheriff-leader. 

Even the blood covering him looked right as he moved in the firelight. 

"They got inside on their own. They always will- the dead and the living, because we're in here. And the ones out there? They'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to use us."

He turned to look at you and you gave him a soft smile. He looked around, meeting people's eyes, and you knew he had them. 

"They'll try to kill us. But we'll kill them. We'll survive. I'll show you how. YN will show you how. Daryl, Merle, Michonne, Abraham, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, Rosita, Carol. Carl. Tara when she wakes up. We'll show you how," his voice was a promise, his eyes lingering on each of them, and then he sighed. 

"You know, I was thinkin'- I was thinking, how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives? But I'm not gonna do that. We're not gonna do that. You're gonna change. You're gonna save your own lives," he said, and Jessie's eyes were sad as she nodded. 

"I'm not sorry for what I said last night," Rick continued. "I'm sorry for not saying it sooner. You're not ready," he said to Deanna. "But you have to be. Right now, you have to be. Luck runs out." 

You were watching their faces, their looks of consideration and hope and budding approval. 

So you missed the footsteps. 

"You're not one of us. You're not one of us!" Pete's angry voice came from just behind you, and Rick whirled, eyes widening. 

You were moving, but not fast enough, and Pete grabbed your arm and yanked you close to him. He had Michonne's sword in his hand, and you wondered where the hell he'd gotten that. 

You flung up an hand as Rick started toward you, holding him and your people back without having to speak a word. The prick didn't have a weapon on you, he just had you in a pretty decent grip. You could break it, but this was actually good for your cause, so you didn't. 

Reg stepped up. "Pete, you don't want to do this," he said, holding a hand out. Reg gave you a gentle smile, like he was trying to encourage you, and wasn't that so sweet? 

Pete had no idea who he had against him, but if he tried anything, he'd find out. And Reg was worried about you. He actually thought you needed saving. 

"Get the hell away from me, Reg. I want Rick, that's all. Don't even want her." Pete snapped, shaking you a little. 

He wasn't huge, but he was tall and he had a good grip. No wonder Jessie was looking at you and him, her eyes wide and glassy. She'd probably been where you were more than once, and she didn't have the skills, the history that you had. 

She'd probably been fucking terrified. 

And the kids- 

"Do you grab your sons like this, Pete?" you asked softly, and he growled in your ear. 

"Just shut up!" 

"No, I want to know," you said, louder, and Rick was watching you closely. 

"Look at Jessie, people," you continued. "You see her eyes? See, I'm not scared of him, because he's not even in my top ten- hell, he's not in my top twenty list of threats. This guy? He's just a man. But look at Jessie. This is what you've been ignoring. And you thought we were the threat," you scoffed at their guilty looks between Pete and Jessie. "We're at least clear about who we are and what we do." 

Well, except Serial-killer Susie Carol, but hey. Close enough.

"Shut up, bitch!" Pete said again, his fingers gripping your arm hard enough to bruise. 

"You so do not want to leave a mark on me, my friend," you told him, amused. "'Cause if you think Rick here is bad, wait till a Dixon stomps your ass if you hurt me." 

"Pete, just stop," Reg said, swallowing hard. "Just let her go, put the sword down, and we can talk about this. About everything." 

"Get away from me. Get away!" Pete snapped as Reg stepped closer, and you actually got worried as he brought up the sword in his free hand. 

"Reg, get back!" you snapped out. "I've got this!" 

But he didn't; he stepped closer, hands out, and Pete put his hand on Reg's chest and pushed him backwards- 

He had the sword in that hand, and as he pushed, the sharp edge of Michonne's blade bit deep into Reg's neck and you and Pete were washed in the spray of blood. 

 

You'd been right about the blood, but this wasn't what you'd planned.

Deanna screamed; Abraham was coming toward you from the side; Reg was falling backward. 

You twisted in Pete's loosening grasp, and had him against the brick wall as he stared in shock at what he'd done. You held the tip of your knife inches from his eye as he stared over your shoulder at the mayhem. 

"This is him! This is him!" he yelled, and you held him in place with a snarl. 

"Speak again and I'll take your eye," you whispered to him. "And then I'll cut out your damn tongue and feed it to you bit by bit." 

He shut up and didn't move, breathing hard and looking at you with huge pupils and a terrified expression. 

Deanna was sobbing behind you, but you didn't take your eyes off Pete. 

"Rick?" you asked. 

"Deanna?" he said softly instead of answering you. 

Silence for a moment, broken only by the fading sounds of Reg's death gargles as he bleed out and tried to breathe, tried to speak, anything. Then you heard her voice. "Do it." 

"I've got it," you heard Rick saying, but you just smiled at Pete as you plunged your knife through his eye, up to the handle. Straight through the brain. 

You drew it out smoothly and let him go, shaking the blood from your blade and your hand as you turned. 

You met Deanna's eyes first, where she cradled Reg's body, and she gave you a nod as you heard a muffled thump as Pete's body collapsed behind you.


	71. Those Who Arrive

You'd staged a dramatic, bloody coup that night and it was like Alexandria barely noticed.

Rick had put the credit on your work in the days leading up, and how the Alexandrians had already started bringing you their problems. So when it became you, Maggie, and Rick who were solving problems, it wasn't that different to them. Oh, you did lip service to Deanna being in charge, and the three did meet with her on a regular basis- it was a set up very similarly to the Council at the prison, really. 

But everyone knew where the buck stopped, and it didn't seem like they cared. 

You and Rick had handled the aftermath pretty well. It helped that Daryl and Merle had gotten back right after you'd dropped Pete. They'd brought back Rick's crazy friend Morgan, who apparently wasn't so crazy anymore and was more like a fucking monk than anything else with his zen no-killing policy. 

That freaked you the hell out almost as much as Father Disturbing's 'the Lord will provide' shtick. Luckily, Morgan himself was actually pretty cool. 

Rick tried to give you an actual office, but you refused. You split your time between one of the gazebos near the center of town, the car by the gate, and the woods outside, where you often escaped to roam alone, with a Dixon, or with Tara after she was back on her feet. 

You and Tara started leading archery classes for anyone who wanted to join, and while they were all pretty hopeless, you had a few takers. Francine was the best, and she was nagging you and Rick and Deanna for some basic self-defense as well. 

You knew you were wearing Rick down about all that, too, though he was still hesitating. 

Abraham was leading the expansion project, and he was doing a damn fine job of it. Glenn was your run expert, and he and Tara were bringing some of the other Alexandrians along pretty well on that, too. Daryl was going out with Aaron and looking for people still, but after their first trip, Merle had opted to stay closer to home. You were ok with that, because it gave you someone else to keep an eye on Carol and the Serial-killer Susie persona that she insisted on maintaining. 

She trusted the Alexandrians even less than you and Rick did. 

Rick talked a good game about integrating the Alexandrians into your little family; about thinking about all of them as your people like you did your group of survivors. But he wasn't as committed to the idea as he made it seem, and you didn't even try to pretend there wasn't a difference in your eyes. His hesitation toward your self-defense classes was the biggest tell, and you pointed it out to him every time it came up. 

He mostly just scowled at you. 

And your people took over even more key positions. 

With Merle sticking close, he soon became the head of security, so to speak. He ran the watch tower and gate guards, soon whipping them into much better shape than they'd been in. Spencer seemed to idolize him, though the guy had a long way to go before he was up to Dixon standards. 

Sasha was your primary watcher, and she organized the others who took to the tower as well. She seemed to be coping with her losses a little better these days, and you were glad. You were not ready to add grief counselor to your many, many hats, and everyone was falling back into the pattern of bringing you every problem. Luckily, these days you directed half the traffic or more to Maggie. Rosita worked with Sasha or with Denise, who'd taken over the infirmary after Pete was killed.  
Michonne was the one who mostly handled the day-to-day security between citizens, inside the walls, since Rick was busy being in charge of everything and managing Deanna. Eugene was Mr. Fix-It, and Father Gabriel mostly just stayed the fuck out of your way- for which you were very, very grateful. 

And you? Well, you just handled whatever came up and planned for the future. 

For two possible futures. 

 

It was like the prison all over again, and you were happy and settled and very, very nervous. 

You'd been here once before; comfortable and secure, and it had been taken away in the blink of an eye. 

You weren't going to let that happen again. This was your home now, and you'd be dammed if another one would be taken from you. 

So you slipped through the woods and abandoned buildings, checking for threats and weakness on the outside of the wall; planting supplies and weapons just like you had before. You kept careful track of changes to the terrain and to the patterns of the walkers you ran into- where walkers bunched up along the wall or outside in the area nearby; where trees fell down or too much rain made one area into muddy, impassable soup. You made plans for getting everyone out of the city if something were to happen, and you made other, more closely guarded plans for how to get just your people out in the worst of cases. 

You made other maps, too, for places to expand in the future or to secure as annexes to the town, separate from the big wall but still fortified. You planned for peace and settlement at the same time as you planned for war and strife and a return to the running that had been your group's way for so long now. 

You killed walkers with your knife, with your bow, with a handgun, with a rifle. You went on the occasional run with Glenn to keep sharp, hunted with Merle and Daryl when he was home. You ate and drank and laughed and slept and loved and made friendships with the people under your care. 

You'd been a half-starved, exhausted, traumatized warrior when you'd arrived, as had everyone in your group. Now you were rested, provisioned, seasoned survivors, determined to keep what you had and make it better. Make it thrive.

You stayed sharp, and you waited. 

Those who arrive survive, and you and your people had damn well arrived here, with a bang and a bloody struggle. 

You'd survive even if it killed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, yall! Second story done!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments, kudos, and love on this work and the series as a whole. I'm having a blast writing for you, and the encouragement means the world! 
> 
> Stay tuned, a certain someone with a bat has plans for these guys, and so do I!


End file.
